


Cleanse

by Isabelle Hemlock (isabelle_hemlock)



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Car rides, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hotels, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Intimacy, M/M, Post Movie, Road Trip, Sexy Times, but like a little later, emotional cleanse, flashbacks to the past, kaysanova, mild PTSD, multi chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 40,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26111041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isabelle_hemlock/pseuds/Isabelle%20Hemlock
Summary: After things are a little safer, Nicky decides to take Joe on a road trip in order to help process some things.  A little angst and a lot of fluff and romance - and some memories over the last couple of centuries in each chapter! - culminating in a surprise destination :)
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 105
Kudos: 293





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Leon Bridges "River" on repeat while writing this - so I am including the lyrics before each chapter (there will be five total). I 100% recommend giving it a listen <3
> 
> ETA: I realize some readers have preferences, so just wanted to point out that this fic features "switching" between Joe and Nicky, and explicit sex scenes featuring both within some chapters

_**Prologue - Dover, England** _   
  


_ Been traveling these wide roads for so long / My heart's been far from you / _

_ Ten-thousand miles gone / Oh, I wanna come near and give ya / Every part of me _

* * *

Nicky thumbed through the sketchbook as Joe was sleeping, his finger tracing the torn section that had been handed to Andy on the train. He flipped through a few blank pages, hoping that maybe he had simply skipped ahead - but the rest of the book was blank. Joe never started a new one without filling up the old one, and Nicky sighed a little,  _ ‘it’s been two weeks’. _   
  
There had been times in the last nine centuries of course - when resources were scarce, fleeing from one battle to another - where Joe simply didn’t have access to the needed tools to make his beautiful sketches. But he couldn’t recall one time he had gone  _ this _ long without drawing  _ something _ . It didn't have to necessarily be paper - ink on a napkin, tracing lines in the sand with a stick, or doodles, and sometimes just plain swirls and blots. Joe was nothing if not creative.    
  
Now the blank pages spoke to Nicky in a way that Joe hadn’t - or  _ couldn’t _ bring himself to admit. 

Joe hadn’t really been himself for the last few weeks. None of them really had, if he was being honest and self reflective. As moody as Booker could be, he was still family -  _ just not for the next one hundred years _ \- and even Nicky, who felt the strongest about getting space between him and the rest of the team, missed the Frenchman.   
  
But Joe wrote it off, his usual jovial self, focusing all his attention working with Copley to arrange a new safe house for them to train Nile. If Booker was mentioned casually, Joe stiffened for a moment then smirked as if he was just fine reflecting on the memory with Andy. A good effort, but Nicky would notice how the smile wouldn’t reach his eyes. He knew every line on Joe’s face - every look, every type of emotion - he knew Joe better than he did himself some days. But  _ this _ felt like something new, or at least something so long ago he couldn’t place it, much less address it and solve it.    
  
But whatever it was, was even more noticeable at night - the way he looked at Nicky when he was changing seemed like he was studying him (and not for a sketch). More like,  _ examining _ him - and the former Crusader wasn’t really sure what to make of that. They were always mindful of company when they were with the others, never really feeling the need to engage in sex all that often (save for the impromptu quickie here and there when the other two were at the market or something). 

Their intimacy was far past that anyways. A look, a hug, a small grasp could feel more passionate than sex sometimes. After a mission, or when their little family needed a break - they’d plan where they would meet back up with them, and then take off for a few months, making up for lost time when there was  _ actual _ privacy. Even in the lab, when Nicky was trying to keep them focused on something good - like Malta - and Joe smiled so beautifully at him . . . well Nicky kind of thought they might have had a moment once they were alone and safe. But instead, after the meeting with Copley, Joe seemed - . . . he couldn’t quite place it, because of how unfamiliar it was: maybe,  _ pensive? _   
  
Between the mood shift, not drawing, the lack of happiness on his face, and the examinations of his form when they were changing for bed - it was beginning to worry Nicky.   
  
Of course he had tried asking a few times, gently easing into it with questions about what was on his mind. He only said he wanted to talk about it later, and Nicky didn’t want to push it. Then he thought maybe Joe would want to talk at night, as they were laying down in their own room in the temporary apartment - Andy and Nile sharing the one beside them. But instead Joe would bury his face in his neck, and  _ sigh _ , asking Nicky to say his prayers while he mumbled his - their nightly ritual.   
  
Joe would fall asleep to the Latin recitations of prayers even older than them . . .    
  
“Morning,” Joe stretched, a small smile on his face, and reaching for Nicky before pausing - seeing him clutching his sketchpad. They could speak volumes in look alone by now, and Joe knew that Nicky was worried by the way his eyes glanced from his face to the book and back. He should have known better than try to dismiss Nicky’s concern with a shrug of the shoulders, “I haven’t really felt like it, that’s all.”   
  
“I’d rather you say nothing at all than lie to my face,” it came out more hurt than the matter of fact way he was trying to convey, and Joe quickly sat up, this time pulling Nicky close to his chest.   
  
“I wouldn’t lie to you,” Joe’s beard tickled against his chin, and Nicky reached up, pressing against his chest - 

“You have such a beautiful new subject to study,” referring to Nile, “And considering she wanted to study art, I’m downright shocked you two wouldn’t be pouring over the art history books together. We could take her to an art museum this weekend - she probably would appreciate a breather from training with Andy for an afternoon.”   
  
Joe squeezed him, downright clinging, and it was another way Nicky worried for his love. They had always moved together, flowing beside one another, but lately it was as if Joe wanted to keep tabs on Nicky. Block him in, in a way. In fact, Joe kept shooting down leaving the house, which was not like him at all. But worse, not only did  _ he _ not want to leave - he definitely didn’t want  _ Nicky _ to leave either. Which to be honest, was starting make him go a little stir crazy, “Joe - “   
  
“I’m sorry I just don’t want to right now.” there was this emotion in his voice, somehow Joe seemed overwhelmed, not sad, but  _ defeated _ ?   
  
Nicky stared up at him, willing him to say something more - expand on what was going on, but Joe never did say anything else, and Nicky pushed himself off their bed and headed for the shared bathroom to shave.   
  
Not even twenty seconds later, Joe stood on the threshold just watching him, examining him once more. Nicky felt like he was back in the lab being scrutinized - and he wished Joe would just explain what he was studying him for so much. He wasn’t frustrated, just confused. Nicky wanted to give him some emotional space if he needed it, but soon enough he was going to pull a husband card and demand some answers.   
  
Maybe it was because of the intense gaze, or his own distracted thoughts, but almost immediately after he started shaving he nicked the skin just under his jaw line. A little wince, and a quiet “ouch” was all he accomplished before Joe was on him. His firm hand pressing against his neck, hard as if he was going to bleed out in front of him.   
  
_ Oh. _ Nick thought, finally putting it together.   
  
Joe’s eyes were already watering, wanting to shake his head ‘no’ when Nicky tugged at his hand to pull it away, “Joe.”   
  
He twisted out of it, reflexes still as good as ever, and Joe followed grasping at his neck, wanting to see if it was healing as before, “ _ Joe _ .”   
  
Of course it was already healed, and the relief that washed over Joe almost brought tears to Nick’s eyes. Instead he closed them, and pressed their foreheads together, Joe wrapping his arms around his chest, “Did you think I suddenly lost it, too?” His grip tightened slightly - a thin layer of shaving cream now smearing against his shirt - but not painfully, “Why didn’t you tell me that’s what you’ve been worrying about?”   
  
“Because that’s not all of it.”   
  
Nicky pulled his face back to look into Joe’s eyes, willing him with a look to finally spill it - he was done waiting. Joe shuffled a little, unsure, but explained it anyway, “I’m worried about Andy, worried about this new alliance with Copley, and dammit I miss Booker - but still hate him for what he put us through - and it’s not just about losing our immortality.” He ran an unsteady hand from Nicky’s back to his arm, squeezing it as if for some sort of emotional balance. More from instinct than anything else, Nicky leaned his hand up to wrap around Joe’s wrist, assuring him he was right there with him - for him.    
  
Taking a breath, Joe continued, “I mean, I knew  _ that _ could happen at any moment, but Andy losing hers seems to have put that to the forefront. And now - “   
  
He paused, painfully long, and Nicky squeezed his wrist a little hoping he’d continue without too much nudging. With a resigned look he admitted the final piece of the puzzle, “When you saw that board, you smiled.”   
  
Wait,  _ that _ was the big emotional reveal? Nicky felt more confused than ever. His brow furrowed a bit, and suddenly he realized most of his face still had shaving cream on it. How could he possibly have a serious conversation when looking like St. Nicholas?   
  
Gently releasing his grip, he reached for the wash cloth and wiped off the excess before folding it over the edge of the sink. Joe’s confession rattled him a little, and he did take a moment before turning back to him, “I was happy to realize we did some good. I prayed for a long time, hoping that if God gave us this gift, then maybe it was for a reason. I assumed I wouldn’t find out what that reason was till I passed through purgatory - but to see the evidence in  _ this _ lifetime - “ Nicky paused: a flash of a memory of him and Joe helping the children after a horrible battle . . . the picture evidence of that on Copley’s board, and the future of those children giving back to the world, well, “It feels like a miracle.”   
  
“And that’s it Nicolo,” he knew Joe was emotional when he used his old name like that, “you see it as a sign of Allah that you are doing His work, and so you’re going to  _ keep _ doing it.”   
  
He was more surprised by Joe’s response, than angry, but his voice was tinged with disappointment, “You want me - want  _ us _ to stop?”   
  
Joe reached for him, hugging him close and though Nicky needed him to continue he couldn’t help but want to comfort him as well. His arms wrapped around Joe’s waist, who had now dipped his mouth against the flesh that was cut but no evidence of it existed anymore. Giving it a gentle kiss, Joe finally admitted the concerns out loud, “I don’t want to find out you’re losing your immortality in the middle of a battle.”   
  
Nicky smiled against Joe’s neck, “How about you nick me in the neck before each one then?”   
  
Joe immediately pulled back, standing as tall as he could, frowning, “That’s not funny.”   
  
But Nicky shrugged his shoulders, giving his best innocent looking face, which helped soften Joe’s, “It’s a  _ little _ funny.”   


Yet Joe’s grip didn’t loosen, and Nicky gently stroked his palms over Joe’s arms, trying to offer him some physical comfort - help keep him steady, and know that he  _ did _ understand . . . that he would take it seriously, “Yusuf - I promise you, that just as much as I think God gave us this immortality for a reason - to do His good works with it - if tomorrow we found out we lost it, I would take it just as equally as a sign from Him, too. A sign of Him telling me ‘to rest.’”   
  
That seemed to give him some hope and Nicky smiled up at him, “And if we got it together, we’ll lose it together, and we’ll retire to the seaside, deal?”   
  
His eyes looked a little glazed, but hopeful nonetheless, “Deal.”   


He merely meant to give him a little peck to seal the conversation, still needing to shave after all, but Joe surprised him by opening his mouth and dipping his tongue against the seam of his lips. It had been a few days since they had kissed deeply, and even then Joe pulled back before anything else could happen. There was a good chance nothing more would happen now either. They were in the shared bathroom with the women after all.    
  
But for a blissful moment, he could taste Joe’s tongue, and he felt that all familiar desire deep in his belly for the man he loved. Nicky wished he could fix it all - Booker’s betrayal, Andy’s mortality - and of course, these little moments didn’t change any of that. How could it?   
  
And yet, as Joe pressed against Nicky, he started thinking that being stuck in this safe house marinating in what happened probably wasn’t going to give them the room to breathe and process anything either. Nicky couldn’t help but groan a little when Joe’s hip brushed against his - wanting the pressure of his body against him. Almost immediately, far too quickly, Joe stopped kissing him. He lowered his forehead against Nicky’s shoulder, and panted a little, catching his breath, “I’m sorry I’ve been a little off lately.”   
  
Nicky wanted to give him a reassuring look, tell him it was okay - but it wasn’t really. They needed to get out of here, needed to do something different. Joe must have been having the same concerns, because his voice sounded muffled as it pressed against the slither of skin exposed from his shirt collar, “I don’t know what to do about it.”

It sent a little shiver down his body, and Nicky closed his eyes, relishing in it for a moment. They had had a moment in the bathroom in Morocco right before Booker and Andy had arrived . . . and the memory triggered something: an idea, “I know exactly what we should do.”   
  
Joe pulled back, giving a slight smirk, “I’m not having sex with you against the sink with Andy and Nile two feet away.”   
  
Nicky rolled his eyes, “Of course not.”   
  
Joe raised his right hand to cup Nicky’s cheek, far too gently for what he was about to say, “Because no matter what’s going on with me, nothing’s changed in that department - no one gets to hear you moan except me.”   
  
_ Dammit _ , for Joe trying so hard to  _ shut down _ the passion, all Nicky could do was blush at his words. He was equally possessive of Joe, but his husband was the wordsmith - Nicky showed his desire in his action, and his idea was no less a love letter than Joe’s declarations . . . “I - I was just going to suggest that we should take a vacation.”   
  
Vacation was  _ obvious _ code - and Joe’s eyes flashed something close to excitement. But it wasn’t just the sex, it was an opportunity for Nicky to remind Joe of the blessings their lives had brought to one another. Some room to breathe, and process, and yes, be intimate - but in so many delicious ways.    
  
Joe grinned, genuinely, and it warmed Nicky’s heart, “I’m pretty sure Copley wants us to avoid traveling right now - “   
  
“Copley can fix the toll cameras along the way,” Nicky waved his hand dismissively.   
  
Joe looked a little unsure, “No planes?”   
  
“I figured you’d prefer that?” Nicky wasn’t sure if he should be too specific - the last time they were on a plane, was when they were being abducted - and he had assumed a car ride might be less stressful. Besides there was something about the way the wind blew in Joe’s curls next to an open window that made him look particularly dashing.    
  
Joe did seem to perk up at the idea, but needed a little more reassurance, “Andy has Nile and Copley right now to help them - and we all agreed to take a break and lie low. This place is obviously safe, they’ll be fine for a week or two.”   
  
“Two weeks?” Joe beamed, “Where exactly do you want to go?”   
  
Nicky breathed a sigh of relief, glad he was being his usual agreeable self, “Everywhere.”

* * *

I hope you liked the prologue! I'm hoping to explore a few beautiful ideas of their relationship into one fic: their intimacy through the centuries, their faith, the emotional connection, scenes from their past, and dealing with some mild PTSD after everything they've through, and yes, knock down the discourse of top/bottom discussion by featuring BOTH in this fic.  
  
I am hoping to spread the story out over five chapters (chapter one is coming later this week!). And yes, this prologue will be downright tame in comparison to what's in store, so please keep that rating in mind. Kudos and comments make me smile, so please feel free to leave them generously ;)  
  
Also, I'm on [tumblr](petersock.tumblr.com), so feel free to stop by and say "hi" <3


	2. The Ship Has Sailed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day One of the Destination Vacation :)
> 
> With a flashback scene that is *chef's kiss* if I do say so myself ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song lyrics are from "River" by Leon Ridges, which I've been listening on repeat while writing this fic :)

**Chapter One - The Ship Has Sailed** ****

_ But there's blood on my hands / And my lips aren't clean _

_ In my darkness I remember / Momma's words reoccur to me  _

_ "Surrender to the good Lord / And he'll wipe your slate clean" _

* * *

**Day One: Strait of Dover**

They were leaning against the iron rails, the ship powering through the waves - a huge improvement to the bobbing of the wooden ones they used to be on - but every now and then, cold drops of water would still land on their exposed skin. Even in the summer, the contact of the splash left little goosebumps on their arms, and Joe wrapped his arm around Nicky to offer some bodily warmth. Immediately, without any real thought behind it, he rested the back of his head against Joe’s shoulder relishing in the close contact and the ease behind it. 

Nicky was right, as soon as they crossed over the Strait of Dover, Joe seemed more relaxed than he had been in weeks. His body far less tense, his breathing even and steady, his grip around Nicky’s waist firm but not desperate. Nicky debated commenting on it, but decided against it - Joe was usually the talker in their relationship anyways - and he didn’t want to assign how his husband was doing one way or another. If he  _ was _ doing better, pointing it out might make him feel guilty for the previous few weeks. And if he  _ wasn’t _ , suggesting he was, could hurt worse - like he was failing to live up to expectation.   
  
The only thing Nicky wanted was for Joe to feel loved by him, and secure in the knowledge that he wasn’t going anywhere. The rest would somehow sort itself out, it always did.

When they first told their family that morning after their bathroom conversation, Andy backed him up, assuring Joe it would be good for him, and that they weren’t going to be gone long. Joe could call and check in every day if he wanted to. Even Nile seemed to be supportive, though she insisted that once their “little sabbatical” was done, Joe needed to tell her everything about the Renaissance painters he had met. Their assurances and support helped Joe immensely, and after he gave both ladies a big hug he immediately asked Nicky what he should pack. 

Of course, when  _ Copley _ heard the news the day before they were leaving, he tried advising against it. Not because there was any real danger at the moment - besides even if he thought there was, Nicky wasn’t going to adjust his plans. But because Copley had hoped to keep interviewing Nicky and Joe, desperate to trace even the most minutiae details of their saves to discover the patterns and expand his board (which was beginning to spill out of his office space, and into the large hallway). 

It was  _ interesting _ work, and to be honest, Nicky did actually enjoy reminiscing. Besides each save only further proved his theory, and helped Andy immensely. But irregardless, Nicky was resolute. A trip down memory lane (plus new memories to help overshadow the recent events) could help bring some peace. He wasn’t expecting a honeymoon, but after two weeks of intense upheaval it felt downright cathartic to tell Copley to “deal with it” (sort of speak) -  _ he _ didn’t say it, Andy did.   
  
It had taken a few days of coordinating to get them here - Nicky meticulously researching and making reservations all along the way to their final destination. The whole trip would take about four days of traveling, and then they would relax for three, before slowly making their way back. Every reservation, every booking, every event he packed into the itinerary became like a memory box of some of their favorite cities in the last nine hundred years. In fact the whole trip was one long act of love, a gift from Nicky to Joe. 

After about an hour they could see the coast of France on the horizon, and shortly after the ship's speaker announced the time of arrival for Calais as imminent.

Now, as the ship was beginning to dock, Joe and Nicky slipped into the most unassuming car Copley could find: a seven year old Volvo, which was packed with enough suitcases and food and supplies to last for far more than a week on the road. Nicky might have overindulged in the plans a little.   
  
Joe kept asking where they were going, but Nicky would only smirk and say a “few familiar cities”, and insisted on keeping the final destination a surprise. Though surely Joe would figure it out by the third day. Neither men would pretend that this vacation was suddenly going to make everything better, or really even change anything. Andy was still mortal, the pain of Booker’s betrayal still lingered as an emotional ache in their bones . . . but the fresh sea air wafting in through the rolled down windows offered a reprieve to be present in the moment. And in that moment, they held hands that rested on the center console, while they waited to be waved forward.   
  
“So -”, Joe broke their silence in a sing song sort of way, “are we going to Paris?”   
  
Nicky smirked, then shook his head as he turned the wheel to the right to head out from the port, “ _ Non _ .” Joe brushed his hand over his face and smiled - a downright beautiful sight at this point - and looked out the window, “Vous êtes plus romantique que vous ne le pensez”  _ [You are more romantic than you give yourself credit for]. _ _   
_   
When Nicky felt his husband’s fingers return to lace through his, he raised Joe’s hand to his lips, giving the back of it a gentle peck as he kept his eyes on the road, “C'est facile à faire avec toi”  _ [It is easy to do with you] _

As much as he was doing this for Joe - he couldn’t deny it was just as much for himself as well. 

**_Three hours later . . ._ **

They would be reaching Frankfurt, Germany (the first stop) in two hours. But right now, they were in Belgium, close enough to the border that they were starting to notice more trees than houses. When there was a sign for a rest area a kilometer away, they decided to stop and enjoy a small lunch that Nicky had prepared before they left. Even though Joe  _ could _ cook, he really excelled at baking - the way he could decorate cookies, and cupcakes with the most beautiful designs always left Nicky in awe. In fact, he had planned for a little baking class on the third day hoping his talents being appreciated by others, as Nicky looked on proudly, would boost his morale a bit.    
  
“Nicky - you made too much, there’s no way we are going to eat all this.”   
  
He looked at the spread, arranged across the fairly large picnic table at the otherwise empty rest stop and raised his shoulders in a ‘oh well’ sort of way. He had thought ahead to pack a cooler, and they could munch on leftovers at the condo he rented for the night. Taking a seat beside him, Joe’s shoulder brushed against Nicky and they quietly ate, the only sounds in the air being a few birds that had flown by.   
  
For desert, they split a flaky pastry and dipped a few pieces in honey. Naturally, a little drop fell on the corner of Nicky’s mouth and Joe pointed it out as if it was the cutest thing he’d seen all day. Only Joe could get away with thinking he was  _ cute _ , when Nicky preferred to think of himself as stoic. But he certainly didn’t object when Joe leaned in and licked that drop off honey right off.

With sticky fingers, Nicky reached up a hand to curl around the back of Joe’s neck - all too happy to give him a real kiss. Joe leaned into him and cupped his cheek in that oh so perfect way. In between soft kisses, Nicky smiled, hoping to inspire some fond memories all along the way, “Do you remember what I told you after the very first time you kissed me?” 

Joe groaned at the memory, “You said, ‘I wondered if your skin would taste different than mine.’”.    
  
And just like that, just like he had done almost nine hundred years ago, he turned his face in Joe’s palm and opened his mouth to wrap his lips around his husband’s thumb - tasting both his skin and the honey. 

The way Joe’s body stiffened urged Nicky on, his tongue curling against the flesh before closing his eyes, and moaning against the way he pressed his fingers against his jaw line. They certainly weren’t going to do anything further when someone could drive up at any moment, but he wanted to enjoy the intimate contact - something to look forward to for when they would reach Frankfurt.   
  
But just as suddenly Joe jerked back, pulling his hand so quickly that his knuckle scraped against his teeth. Utterly confused, Nicky’s eyes flashed open, and saw Joe’s worried look . . . no, not worried,  _ panicked _ ? Had someone pulled up? Was he embarrassed?    
  
Joe blinked a few times, as if there was something flashing before him that he was struggling to stay focused on. Beginning to get a little worried, Nicky reached out slowly, taking Joe’s hands in his, “Yusuf.”   
  
Joe’s lips quivered a little, and his shoulders slumped - seemingly defeated and it broke Nicky’s heart a little, “What’s wrong, tell me habibi.”   
  
But Joe just shook his head, and Nicky reached forward, wrapping his arms around his neck - and at the very least Joe let him, equally clinging to him. He didn’t cry, he didn’t say anything, but he hugged Nicky for several minutes before finally asking if they could get back on the road.   
  
Nicky felt worried - this whole time he had thought something was wrong because Joe was cooped up in the safe house. That once alone, things would be better, but they weren’t. At all. He told himself that it probably just hadn’t been enough time - but he couldn’t help it, the concern still laid stagnantly between them. Joe stood up from the table and quietly began packing up the leftovers, while Nicky went to the car to grab the cooler.    
  
Neither said anything for the rest of the car ride.

**_Frankfurt, Germany - 1528_ **

They were renting a small home, a storefront attached to other buildings in the market square. It was their first home since Andromache had asked them to leave. Well, she didn’t order them to go - but she said she needed time -  _ years _ . After arguing against it in every single way they could, the compromise was to meet again in ten years (versus her original twenty five year plan). They arranged for a meeting place, and though she knew it was futile, they were certain she would continue walking up and down the coastline  _ willing _ Quynh to walk out of the ocean now that decades had passed. Anyone who was on that ship was either dead, or missing themselves. There was nothing more to do.   
  
They hadn’t really been alone for centuries. The odd month long excursion here and there, while Andromache and Quynh would do reconnaissance. But she was determined to have a decade by herself. A whole decade where Yusuf and Nicolo - now Joseph and Nicholas for the Central Europeans - would need to relearn how to be alone together all over again.   
  
It was almost painfully easy. Painful because they both missed Quynh, too. Could only cling to one another when thinking of the loss Andromache was experiencing. And in some small ways, it almost felt like a betrayal to be intimate, to have love, when it was denied to their family. 

They rented the shop space, furnished it with the silks and fabrics they had brought from the middle eastern trading routes - and surprisingly did well enough to live comfortably. Of course, most of the Germans preferred to be serviced by ‘Nicholas’. While ‘Joseph’ was relegated to stocking duty in the back. But no matter how much Nicky would get riled up about it, Joe would downplay it, and say he was just thankful they had enough coin to buy paper for him to sketch with at night.   
  
But as much as Nick was appreciative for the job security, Joe was the better merchant - keeping the books, buying the right supplies, even how the stock was arranged was meticulous. And one day, not long after they had started their new life, Nicky watched Joe bolt the door to their shop, looking particularly dashing after returning from the market - some fabric wrapped under his arm - but otherwise looking every inch of a middle class merchant. Chemise shirt, a maroon colored stiff doublet, and a waist length cape draped over his left shoulder and pinned with a copper broach. He looked downright striking, like something from a painting, and Nicky considered himself awfully lucky to get to go upstairs with him that night.   
  
“You stare as if you have never seen me before,” he grinned, relishing in the effect that he was causing. Joe was never bashful.   
  
Placing the roll of fabric on the nearest shelf for inventory in the morning, he walked over to Nicky who had remained behind the wooden counter - mindful of the window that looked within the store. The sun had already set, but the two candles in the store only accentuated the two of them inside. They probably already raised  _ some _ suspicion living together, but the upstairs came with two beds, and the thought of an “Arab” and an “Italian” man being in love was so far above the local’s heads that they didn’t notice the obvious.    
  
Joe stopped just before reaching Nick, “Is my new cape striking your fancy?”   
  
Nicky cocked an eyebrow, looking him and up down slowly, “Well it _ is _ nice - just please promise me you will not invest in one of those cod pieces - they look a little vulgar.” He made a face, and Joe chuckled in agreement, before reaching over to blow out the first candle.   
  
Nicky picked up the second one to lead them upstairs and asked what had taken Joe so long to come back. Once the upstairs door to their apartment was closed, Joe swung off the cape and draped it over the chair near the wash basin. With curtains closed over the one window, it was far safer to move closer to Nick, “They had someone from that new church handing out pamphlets in the square.”   
  
Nick watched him unfold a piece of paper, discussing Martin Luther - and his theories of Evangelicalism. He glanced at it, but had already familiarized himself with Luther’s main points. He didn’t  _ disagree _ with some extra regulations for the Church. After all, there was nothing “holy” about the war they met in . . . and obviously, he knew he was no longer welcome in the Church, since he was married to a man - a Muslim man at that. But, he still prayed his prayers, and lived the Faith in every other way. So looking at the pamphlet, he refolded it and handed it back to Joe, “It will never take off.”   
  
“Perhaps,” was Joe’s simple reply, and Nick shook his head with a smirk. Leave it to Joe to bring home a pamphlet on Lutheranism.    
  
“Are - are, you coming to bed, or staying up a while?” Nick didn’t mean to imply anything, but it had been a few weeks, and well . . . they had extra soft blankets that just arrived today.    
  
Joe leaned in, giving Nicky a far too short kiss, “Get comfortable and I will be in bed soon - I just want to sketch a few things to get them out of my mind.”   
  
Nicky liked that response, and turned to head towards the small bedroom on the right. He passed the little home altar on the way, with the prayer rug that was perched against the small table. Over the last few centuries they’ve had to replace the materials, but even now, the sight of their shared faith on display brought a smile to them both every night before they settled into bed.    
  
Once he was down to his chemise and wool socks, Nicky snuffed out the candle and settled in bed waiting. And waiting some more. He had finished his prayers for almost half an hour before he finally realized that Joe had gotten lost in his sketching and forgotten all about coming to bed. He debated about reminding him, then figured they were far past the point of restraint now . . .    
  
Taking one sheet with him, he wrapped it around his shoulders, in case the wind from the night air was filtering through the thatched roof. Thanks to the thick socks the wood floors didn’t feel too cold, and because of the small attic space it really didn’t take all that long to cross to the other side and peer into the second room. The door was always ajar, and they did keep the small bed in a corner - in case someone ever walked in and wanted to ensure that they really were  _ just _ merchant partners. But otherwise, it was solely Joe’s art studio. Sketch pads, books, painting supplies, canvases, a low table and cushion in one corner. It had his husband written all over it. So Nicky enjoyed the sight of him hunched over his latest leather bound book - carefully sketching something too far away for him to be able to tell what it was -  _ and _ how he was stripped down to just his trousers.  _ Mm _ , he looked even better than just an hour ago.   
  
The wood creaking underneath his feet still hadn’t registered to Joe - in fact, it wasn’t until Nick’s bare legs had brushed against his naked shoulders that Joe stopped sketching. He had just enough time to put the pad aside before Nicky let the sheet fall away, moving in front of him, and sat himself in his lap. But Joe was just as smug as ever, even with Nick’s legs spread across his clothed thighs, “Was I taking too long?”   
  
Nicky nodded, but otherwise didn’t say anything. He was a little miffed that Joe’s sketches had taken precedence to coming to bed. And he wasn’t really in a hurry to pretend otherwise.   
  
Joe reached for his sketchpad, holding it up for Nicky to see . . . and of course he should have known. He was sketching when he first came back into the store, and how Nicky looked behind the counter. He was hunched over, his wavy hair falling over his face just enough to obscure his eyes from Joe - and his husband thought  _ that _ was worthy of a sketch?  _ An artist’s mind truly is a unique thing _ , Nicky thought to himself.   
  
“I should not have spent so much time sketching such a beautiful creature, when he was waiting for me in bed,” Joe let the pad flop to the floor, and with his now free hand held Nick close to him around his waist. 

He always did say the sweetest things to him, sincerely, too, “Yusuf . . .”   
  
Joe trailed kisses down his exposed neck, pulling the chemise down over his shoulder to continue the procession to there, and then back up his collarbone. Delicious shivers made their way down to his exposed legs, and his desire was becoming painfully obvious between them, “Let me make love to you in here. So you can show my paintings what they should be envying.”   
  
Nick rolled his eyes, and laughed weakly into the air, Joe’s curls tickling the sensitive skin just under his jaw, “You think  _ far _ too highly of me.”   
  
“I do not think of you enough - otherwise I would have climbed into bed half an hour ago,” he pulled back, cupping Nick’s cheek in his right hand, “You asked and I took too long - I am so sorry Nicolo. Please know it was only an artistic distraction, I would never deny you.” He was serious, as serious as he could be, and Nicky shook his head to reassure him, “I know - I know that.” He gave Joe a deep kiss, trying to reassure him physically as well. They only parted when they both needed air, and Nicky looked at his husband with hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, “Take me to bed now amore mio.”   
  
Too desperate to make it back to their bed, they broke in the studio bed that night instead.   


  
**Present Day**

Nicky had picked up the keys at the lock box for the condo he had rented for them in Frankfurt. They hadn’t been back in at least six decades, and it was definitely different since then. Of course he had looked for something far more modern than the old merchant building they had lived in oh so long ago. That building was likely long gone anyways. But to give homage to that time, he picked out a small condo nestled in an attic space. Dark exposed wooden beams lined the sloped ceilings, and there was a lovely small balcony off of the living room that had two or three potted plants - white roses which tickled Nicky’s nose when he first got a whiff of them.

He was still looking over the skyline of the city from the balcony when he felt Joe’s arms wrap around him from behind - his big hands pressed against his chest - his lips brushing against the skin just beneath his ear. He could feel his staggered breath, and Nicky placed his hands over Joe’s, hoping the small comfort would help, “I’m sorry about earlier.”   
  
He hated how strained Joe sounded, how wounded. Nicky turned around in his hold, “Amore mio.”    
  
Joe closed his eyes, forehead pressing against Nicky, and sighed, “I’ll try harder, I will. You found such a perfect space for us, I’m sorry - thank you for this.”   
  
Nick smiled, “It’s just the first stop. There’s a few more sights to see.”   
  
Joe opened his eyes, breathing a little easier, “What do you have up your sleeve?”   
  
Nicky shrugged in his grasp, before hinting with his eyes to a small box to their left. Joe followed the line of sight, spotting a small white package with a bow on top, “Where - when did you pack this?”   
  
But Nicky only smirked, not willing to reveal all his secrets, “Open it.”   
  
Joe walked over, and easily pulled the wrapping paper apart, before his eyes brightened at the sight - a canvas, with a small bundle of different artist pens and pencils to sketch on it with, “Nicolo.”   
  
He walked over to Joe’s outstretched hand, all too happy to receive a small kiss in gratitude before he sat down at the nearest table to inspect the supplies, “These are an expensive brand hayati - you shouldn’t have.”   
  
“As if you aren’t worth every penny,” he took the chair beside him, resting his chin in the palm of his hand, the other stroking Joe’s forearm, “Let’s take a nap, then enjoy dinner - I booked us a reservation.”   
  
“You really did think of everything.”   
  
“Was there ever any doubt?” Nicky smiled, before pulling Joe up to his feet as they looked for the bedroom. After about seven hours of traveling they were both ready to crash, barely managing to pull off their shoes and pants before climbing into bed. Instantly, naturally, subconsciously - Joe laid down first, his back to the wall, before Nicky climbed in. A tradition they started a long time ago, before they were even lovers. 

One night Yusuf had admitted how hard it was to sleep until his back was against the wall, and he could keep an eye on the exit and entrance of any given space. And without much thought, Nicolo unwrapped his sleeping pack and settled it beside him. He didn’t explain why at the time, just thought he was helping his companion by assuring Yusuf that whatever came through a door, would have to go through him first.

They’ve slept like that ever since.   
  
When Nicky woke up, the sky was dark - but their reservation was still an hour away. He could tell immediately by the lack of dip behind him that Joe was gone. He sat up, not in a panic, but curious to where his husband had wandered off to. It didn’t take long for him to cross the space, and just when he had passed the kitchen, he spotted the open door to the balcony. Joe was standing there - the beginning sketches of the cityscape gently being copied onto the canvas he was balancing against the ledge.   
  
It made Nicky think of that night almost five hundred years ago - after a long absence, how he had climbed into Joe’s lap and they had made love. He ached for Joe again, and wanted to do the same, but the memory of the picnic just a few hours ago, the way he seemed . . . panicked, kept him in place. Maybe this was  _ better _ , Joe sketching again for the first time in two weeks. His own form of art therapy.    
  
Without really thinking about it, Nicky raised his hand, and made the sign of the cross before saying an Ave Maria to himself. He prayed that this was the beginning of the puzzle pieces being revealed, so he could understand how to put Joe back together again.   


* * *

Hope you liked the first chapter! It is only going to get steamier from here ;)  
I had planned on doing one city per chapter, and then realized how long this was getting, and figured I should find a spot to break it up in two instead. So my original plan of five might look more like 7 or 8 by the end of it?? But promise, the next chapter will end in a new city . . . any guesses to which one?  
  
Also, the pamphlet moment made my Lutheran husband chuckle, so hopefully no offense caused to any other Lutheran readers out there! <3  
  
Please feel welcome to leave me comments and kudos, they are definitely encouraging :D  
Next chapter is already 90% done, so should be up over the weekend!


	3. Candlelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay . . . Guys, final warning - this chapter is the one that earns that explicit rating. And will continue to earn it from here on out.
> 
> And I don't mean to imply that oral sex fixes everything . . . But it helps *shrug*

**Chapter Two - Candlelight**

_Take me to your river / I wanna go / Oh, go on_

_Take me to your river / I wanna know_

_Tip me in your smooth waters / I go in_

* * *

Of course it didn’t take long for Joe to notice Nicky standing a few feet away in the kitchen. He smiled warmly and asked him to join him on the balcony so he could share which rooftops he had copied, and if he thought they were a good likeness. Nicky didn’t really know why he asked for his opinion, seeing as Joe must know by now that he could draw just about anything, the man had had enough practice. But he certainly didn’t want to dim his excitement . . . no more than that, his _pride_ in creating something beautiful.   
  
When Nicky stepped out into the evening light (the balcony lit in romantic light from several strung lightbulbs hanging above them), he was hit by thick and humid air - it was nowhere near as bad as the Italian summers, or worse, the Israeli ones, but he was all too glad to return to the air conditioned unit once Joe had finished showing off the draft. It only took a few moments for his husband to wrap up the materials on the kitchenette table, and Nicky suggested they get ready for their reservation.

Once they freshened up, they settled on a simple combo - solid colored buttoned downs, with complementing slim slacks. It was both comfortable, and unassuming. They learned a long time not to draw attention to themselves - _after all_ , Nicky thought, Joe would be far too noticeable with a shave and a suit. _Truly irresistible_ . Though the way that beard of his felt against his skin - _mhmm_ .   
  
Locking up the condo, they descended the stairs, Joe even taking two at a time around the corners which made Nicky smile. Drawing had helped him a little after all. He wanted to reach out for him once they stepped onto the sidewalk - not for any other reason than to feel his hand in his. And after 900 plus years he was grateful for the ability to hold Joe’s hand in public without fear of persecution, but even that (sadly) still drew attention, so more out of habit than anything else, they walked side by side to the restaurant just a few blocks away. 

The establishment was nothing fancy, about as unassuming as they were.  
  
But still, the dinner was quite nice, romantic even. The candles between them and the dim overhead lights reminded Nicky of times long ago - where the only lights they had to look at each other at night were by candlelight. Joe’s skin looked so striking in it, as warm as his personality. It reminded Nicky of sunsets on the oceans where they had spent the majority of their time together; in prayer, in kisses, in love. 

The conversation was casual, both careful to avoid the subject of the last two weeks - and especially Joe’s mood shift earlier in the day. Instead they talked about memories from the 1500’s as the place quieted down, and the candle threatened to burn out between them. Luckily no one rushed them out until they were the last two left. With apologies, they left a big tip, and - with no one on the streets - held hands on the way back to the condo.  
  
It felt almost normal. 

Now back, Nicky wondered if Joe would feel comfortable enough to take a shower with him. But as soon as the thought passed through his mind, his body stilled. _Of course he would_ , Nicky’s mind reasoned, _unless -_ his heart countered.   
  
Usually when they were with the family they took turns taking showers, one time Andy had suggested they not be “babies” about it, and share to conserve the hot water - but Booker rolled his eyes, and took a swig of his drink - while Joe smirked in a way that implied it would be hard to resist Nicky naked in front of him. He was teasing of course, but Nicky waved off the notion centuries ago. Baths and showers together were an unspoken rule, reserved for their vacations.   
  
But _this_ vacation was different from the others. It was as if Joe was fighting this inner turmoil when it came to - _intimacy?_ No that wasn’t exactly it, but it _felt_ like it with the way Joe had behaved at the picnic earlier.   
  
“I’m going to take a shower before bed,” Nicky placed the shoes near the front door, before walking over to Joe nearby. With a gentle touch, he traced his fingers along the edges of Joe’s forearm - from the wrist to the rolled up sleeve just below his elbow, “Care to join me?”   
  
Even in the darkened hallway, Nicky could see the gleam in his eyes, “Always.”   
  
Slowly, with almost careful procession they took off articles of clothing one at a time as they made their way to the bathroom. The apartment was dark, no one could see inside, and somehow going down the hallway naked felt sensual and thrilling.   
  
Joe stepped into the bathroom first, turning on the second switch which lit up the floor in a dim pale orange glow along the baseboards - a nice feature that Nicky hadn’t even noticed before. They could see each other, but it felt just as dark and romantic as the candle lit dinner.   
  
Of course, once Nicky realized Joe was studying him again, it put a slight damper on the sensuality part. He was completely naked, bare in a way they hadn’t been for weeks - and instead of the usual passionate responses Joe would give him at this point - he stood there _unsure_ : and Nicky hated the scrutiny, the uncertainty on his husband’s face. Was he still scared about him not healing? Did he need to cut himself to prove it so they could take a shower?   
  
He understood the fear - before Andy and Quynh had shared about Lykon - they had thought their immortality was sealed. But even so, they never knew Lykon, it didn’t feel personal in a way, more like some far, _far_ off concern. After all Andy was over six thousand years old, they were babies in comparison to her - they still had time. Now seeing it happen to her, put it to the forefront in a way that they both struggled with . . . but for Joe it seemed to be compounded. There was something else he wasn’t saying. And for a man who wore his heart on his sleeve, who spoke enough for both of them, Nicky was conflicted about what to do. He never had to help Joe find his words before. It was a horrible feeling.   
  
“J'ai l'impression que tu m'examine pour des cicatrices de bataille _[I feel like you are examining me for battle scars]_ ” Joe had told him a long time ago that he found Nicky’s French quite arousing with his accent, so he was hoping it would have the desired effect this time. But even so, he wanted to be honest - and share his fear . . . that maybe there was this block between them. This hesitancy.   
  
Joe shook his head a little, seemingly trying to find the right words, which only made Nicky feel more defeated - the last time he could recall Joe straining to find the right words was before they were lovers, never since. Not in nine hundred years had Joe been so restrained with the sight of his naked body. It felt strange, and unnerving.   
  
Somehow the look on his face conveyed that inner concern, because Joe closed the space between them in a hurry - flesh pressing against flesh, and instantly Nicky felt the tension leave his own body. Safety and warmth spreading around his heart. Joe lifted his chin up with a gentle curved finger to look into his eyes, “Vous avez raison. Je vous examinais - je suis vraiment désolé, Nicolo. _[You’re right. I was examining you - and I am so sorry, Nicolo.]_ ” 

Nicky reached up, gently wrapping his fingers around Joe’s wrist, “But I’m okay. See for yourself.”  
  
Joe gave that all familiar groan - the one where he understood Nicky’s underlying meaning all too perfectly. His grip tightened around his waist, and Nicky felt the flutterings in his belly, the desires returning with full force, “Go on, explore every part - see that I am healed, that I am fine. And I’m right here.”   
  
If Joe was struggling with his words, it never showed in his touch.   
  
There wasn’t a frenzy behind it, or even passion really, it was more like a refamiliarization. Joe’s hands glided from his waist, to his ribcage, to around his back. One hand moved up to his neck, the other pressing him even closer to himself. There was no denying the effect they had each on each other at that point. Nicky had tried restraining himself for a moment, allowing Joe to take all the time in the world to explore . . . but as Joe began moving his long fingers up his neck and wrap into his hair, his hips jerked a little, “Can - can we get into the shower now?”   
  
Joe stepped back, just for a moment to get the rain showerhead the perfect temperature. Nicky instantly missed the warmth his body had provided, little goosebumps spreading on his legs and arms. Watching his husband balance as he leaned over to check the water gave him the perfect view of his ass, and he knew, _knew_ something would happen soon. He’d _make_ it happen. He needed this just as much as he was certain Joe did.   
  
As they both stepped under the large showerhead, warm water soothing the skin, Nicky took Joe’s hand and placed it over his heart - words weren’t necessary here. At least, he hoped not. It was beginning to get hard to think as the blood pooled in his groin. 

Joe ran steady fingers over his pectoral muscles, tips grazing over the hardened nipples but moving towards his back to pull him closer. Nicky’s hands moved from his neck, mirroring every swipe - every movement. Neck, chest, back and hips. At one point Joe must have felt the way Nicky’s thigh twitched when his hand brushed over his hip bone. He was achingly close to his cock, and his pelvis bucked forward, desperate for those long fingers to wrap around him.  
  
Even though the goal was for patient reassurance during this exploration, even Nicky couldn’t hold the resolve forever. Pushing himself against his husband, hip bone pressed against hip bone, Joe’s mouth opened with an almost strangled sound. If there was ever a moment where Nicky needed Joe to use his powers of observation it was here: with his eyes focused on Joe’s, peering into his very soul, saying, “I’m here. I got you.”   
  
Blissfully he seemed to, and Joe came alive at the sight, diving in and almost slamming his lips against Nicky’s. But he could take it, even when his back hit the cool tile behind them, even as the water was running cold, Joe's warm body pressed against his was enough to keep him right in place.   
  
When they parted, gasping for air, chests heaving and mouths agape, Joe looked desperately in love - and Nicky with his tousled hair, looked downright feral . . . “Bed. _Now_.”

Joe had barely turned off the water, when Nicky grabbed him by the wrist, leading them back to the bedroom. Nicky, honestly a little worried he might falter a bit - once again worn out by the emotions in his mind - felt a little desperate to get _something_ going, afraid Joe would change his mind . . . had that ever happened before? Had Joe ever denied him? But the thought of rushing - of pushing Joe into it stalled him - no, worse, made him come to a screeching halt.   
  
He had just settled on the edge of the bed, Joe standing between his warm thighs. His fingers were curling into his hair again, his erection stiff and near his jaw. He wanted so desperately to taste him again . . . but there it was, sure enough. This unfamiliar look on Joe’s face.   
  
He would never want to force Joe - couldn’t even imagine, but he did want an answer, or at least the beginning of a conversation that would help him navigate what he needed to do next. He so desperately wanted to help Joe, but he could only do so much without feedback. 

Without much effort, he dragged Joe onto the bed with him, then rolled them over. The upper half of his body pressing against Joe’s - but still, Joe never let go the grip behind his head. His firm fingers dug through his hair when Nicky pressed on top of him, both a warning and a pleading desperation. And Nicky wasn’t exactly sure what to make of that. But he did come to the realization that everything he had tried up till now wasn’t working. He would need to shift gears.  
  
He prayed to God for insight, for some way to reach Joe . . . and then it hit him. 

This whole time Nicky had been trying to _lift_ Joe out of whatever had been on his mind - trying to get him to meet him where _he_ was at. But maybe his husband needed _him_ to dive in instead. To go _down_ to where he was, hear his worst fear, so he could help soothe it. Not just give him distractions. He needed to encourage Joe to share the truth with him, even if it could devastate.   
  
Joe’s grip on his hair never relented, he looked up at Nicky in silence, but it still felt deafening between them. Bracing himself up on one elbow, his other hand rested on Joe’s neck. It was meant to offer comfort before he spoke, but it only affirmed something was going on - Joe’s heart beat felt downright erratic. And yet even now, Joe leaned into his touch, though whether it was conscious or not, Nicky couldn’t tell, “Tell me habibi.”   
  
Joe shook his head - he wanted to be the strong one, the funny one, the one who had it all together. The one who shone like the sun, people gravitating around him because of the warmth he provided in their lives. In his life. He was a beautiful spirit, who didn’t shy away from his emotions, who taught Nicky so much about the depth of a man’s soul. But right now, it was like there was this eclipse, a darkness that was blocking his light and Nicky was desperate to pull him out from behind it. But first, he’d have to face it.   
  
“I know you’re afraid to tell me - maybe you think you’ll get too emotional if you tell me, but do it anyway. _Please_ , Joe.”   
  
_Please_ , was a double edged sword between them. They were so good at anticipating each other's needs that they had rare use for it. But there was this electric exchange of power that happened between them in bed. And between the sheets, as they teased out the desires from each other’s bodies, “please” (in oh so many delicious languages) became the word most often used.   
  
Joe’s grip on his hair tightened a little, pressing on the spot that two weeks ago was covered in blood, and skull matter. His fingertips pushed against his scalp, as if checking to make sure it was all healed still. As if somehow all the wounds he’d ever had would somehow suddenly return and kill him instantly.   
  
His husband looked up at him - finally accepting that Nicky was not relenting this time - he would keep them here like this until he teased the truth from his lips. Unsure, but maybe equally understanding this couldn’t keep going the way it was, Joe took a deep breath and finally said out loud what was flashing before his eyes, “We had just found out about Andy, about Booker - and then right after . . . I keep seeing what that bastard did - the gun.”   
  
Nicky stilled. It had happened so quickly, Keane’s gun shoved in his mouth, then everything went to black. It was the first kill since they had learned about Andy, and Booker. And it had obviously had a much different effect on Joe, than it had on him. But he wasn’t about to interrupt Joe, not when there was more to say, “Your mouth, that beautiful mouth, shot . . . and brain matter -”   
  
Joe’s eyes blinked at the tears that were forming, and he looked away, embarrassed? “I want to, I really want to, but when you wrapped your lips around my thumb earlier today - “ _Oh_ , Nicky thought, understanding and renewed patience washing over him. He moved his hand from Joe’s neck to his cheek, encouraging him to look back at him. Unshed tears were pooling in his eyes, and Nicky wanted to reach down and kiss them all away. But he finally understood that Joe needed to say it out loud, even just once . . . and he was right here for him while he did it.   
  
With a stuttering breath, he shared the full truth, “When I imagine what we could do soon - I see flashes of that gun in your mouth instead, of you lying there, with that hole in your head, and I can’t shut it off.”   
  
Nicky’s eyes narrowed on him, not in surprise, but in sadness. Why hadn’t he said something sooner? Did he think that unless he was cheering Nicky up, any other emotion was somehow banned from being discussed? They were going to talk about this, but for now, he had a different idea, “Grip my hair harder - feel that it is healed.”   
  
Joe obliged, firm, long fingers entangled through thick strands of hair. Nicky began to kiss him gently - little kisses from his mouth, to his jawline, to his neck . . . working his way down, “Hold it the whole time if you need to.”   
  
“The whole time for what?”   
  
“This - “ a kiss on his chest, tongue swirling on one nipple at a time, mouth closing on the bud briefly before centering down the lines of his defined stomach, “If the image of me being shot is replaying in your mind, let’s replace it with a fresher image.”   
  
Joe’s body had started responding almost immediately, twisting and arching underneath him, but the weight of Nicky’s firm form on top of him kept him from straining too much under his attention. When he pressed a kiss against his hip bone, Joe pushed his head back into the pillow with a groan and closed his eyes - much to Nicky’s chagrin, “Eyes on me amore mio. Let it imprint on your very soul, feel your fingers in my hair - know I’m whole.” He waited for Joe to lift his head, and prop himself on his left elbow for a better view. Keeping the intense gaze connected, Nicky wrapped his hand around his cock, “And what I want to do the most with you is kiss you. _Here_.” 

Nicky knows it won’t take long. Joe has written an impossible amount of sonnets about his eyes, and outside of the bedroom they are probably his favorite feature to gaze on. He had told him more than once that the sight of his eyes on him, doing this, made him relinquish all control - and God, he hoped it would work this time, too.  
  
First he gripped the base, angling it straight before licking the underside slowly, and teasingly from base to tip before - with their gaze connected - dipping his open mouth around the head. Joe groaned, and immediately allowed his head to fall back into the pillow, before Nicky pulled away - much to Joe’s dismay, “ _Please_ don’t tease - “   
  
“I told you, eyes on me.”   
  
He leaned up on his other arm, fingers still entangled in his hair. Once he knew he was comfortable, he kept his eyes locked with Joe’s and sank forward - taking his entire length in his mouth, the hardness filling his throat and stretching it in a way that he was hoping to do to Joe soon enough.

Joe’s hips writhed, and made little shallow thrusts. But he behaved, never taking his eyes off the sight of him gently bopping up and down, licking each and every part his tongue could swirl around.   
  
But he was just getting started. With practiced ease, Nicky reached for the bottle beside him that he laid out before they even flopped on the bed. Joe’s moan urging him on, but otherwise having lost all words - which was such a rare thing, that Nicky knew he was doing a good job.   
  
Uncapping the top, with one hand, he poured a little onto his fingers, rubbing and smearing it between them until they were well coated. Joe groaned, his eyes barely able to stay open. Nicky released his dick with a pop, his own lips swollen and pink and a small trail of saliva still connecting his low mouth with Joe’s cockhead, “You still taste as delicious as the first time.”   
  
Joe sank back into the bed, trying to keep his eyes open but Nick smiled, “It’s okay hayati - you can close them now if you need to . . . I won’t punish you _too_ much.”   
  
With a sigh, he leaned his head back, and Nicky sank back into place, shouldering his thighs apart. After breaching the tight knub with his index finger, he worked it slowly and carefully - curling the finger until he could stroke the prostate which made Joe arch his back into the air, calling his name in a desperate plea for more.   
  
And he obliged, a second finger, then a third, with little kisses up and down his length, hair tugged and pulled into the rhythm he wanted. His name bleeding from Joe’s lips, and leaving chills for Nicky. He knew he was close when he kept repeating Nicky’s old name in heavy groans, “Nicolo. Ni-Nicolo. _Nicolo_ .”   
  
Sweat was glistening on his golden skin, his cock looking red and swollen, his balls tight - he was ready, just one or two more moments and Nicky could not allow it to go to waste. With three fingers deep, and his mouth sucking down his dick - till his nose scratched against his hair down there - Joe came, ripping a few strands out as he partially sat up, shouting out his name one last time.   
  
The thick rope of cum warmed his throat and he did not stop licking and teasing the shaft until the very last drop was consumed. When he gave the cockhead one last suck, Joe shook - sensitive to the point of pain.   
  
He had looked so beautiful when he came - his body tight, muscles twitching, mouth now slack and gasping big gulps of air. His very own Adonis, Nicky thought as he pulled himself up to lean over him. A sheen of sweat had formed over Joe’s body, and the space between them was slick and ready. Though Joe looked dazed, dare he say almost happy, the movement of raising his legs a little to wrap around Nicky’s waist was far more automatic than conscious. Not all the blood had returned to his brain yet. 

When he opened his eyes lazily, looking up at Nicky with that usual awe of adoration - he knew he did good. He was addicted to that look from his husband, downright craved it. And he would do anything to earn it. 

Joe looked tired, but in a content sort of way, like some of the worry had literally been pulled from his body. He finally released his grip on his hair, when Nicky leaned down to kiss him. He hadn’t expected a deep kiss right away, but Joe pushed his tongue in anyways, before allowing his hands to roam down his back. He squeezed his buttocks, and went to move his hand between them - surely to return the favor to Nicky. But he knew his husband better, he needed to rest. He pressed a hand against his wrist, pushing it into the bed with no real fight behind it, “Later.”  
  
“You don't want me to?”   
  
“Oh I _want_ you to - but first, let’s get some sleep. We got all the time in the world.”   
  
Joe stretched underneath him, releasing his legs from around Nicky - who peeled away from him and the bed hesitantly. He went to wash his hands and grab a washcloth for Joe. But by the time he came back, Joe was on his side sound asleep. Even when Nicky carefully cleaned him down there, he was dead to the world. This was probably the best sleep he was having in over two weeks, and Nicky figured they could always take another shower in the morning before they left for the next city.   
  
It was unconscious, surely, but when he leaned off the bed, to place the washcloth in the nearby hamper - Joe’s hand reached out, pulling him back in. Nicky smiled down at him, but his face was unmoving, breathing steady, “Goodnight amore mio.”   
  
Curling beside him, Joe wrapped his arm around his waist, and sleep came easier than it had in weeks.   
  
\------

Nicky gasped, his body waking up with a jolt before his mind had understood what was going on. His right hand immediately reaching down to run his fingers into Joe’s curls between his legs. He was still lying on his side, but one leg was over his husband’s shoulder, thigh resting on his cheek - but Joe’s mouth . . . he almost regretted waking up only because Joe pushed off just long enough to smile up at Nicky, “It’s later.”  
  
Before he could even reply, he dived back down, downright excited it seemed to see how quick he could get Nicky off. It _was_ later - the sun was up, and they were supposed to be on the road in an hour, but with the way that silver tongue of his was going at it, Nicky wouldn’t even need a few minutes. He downright yelped through gritted teeth when Joe slurped at the base, his cheeks hollowing. It wasn’t a desperate frenzy - but an excited one, like he hadn’t done this for the last nine hundred years.   
  
“Joe - I’m -,” his breath staggered, the muscles in his stomach contracting, his thighs twitching. He wasn’t even fully awake yet, but the orgasm barreling down on him threatened to push him into a love coma. How was he going to climb out of bed after this?   
  
_Knock knock._   
  
Joe froze, but didn’t lift off, and Nicky felt his dick twitch - as if it was trying to will Joe to continue despite the intrusion.   
  
“Housekeeping.”   
  
_Dear God in Heaven_ , Nicky tried to sit up, but Joe pushed his hands down on his hip refusing to let him move. Without a word - since his mouth was occupied - he shook his head a little . . . and then _winked_ up at him.   
  
_Joe, no_ \- but all thought left him when Joe sank his mouth all the way to base, turning and twisting and licking in a desperation to seemingly get him off before this woman entered the condo. He could have sworn he signed a “Do not disturb” box on the rental form, but maybe she didn’t get it.   
  
She knocked again, and with the last bit of resolve he could muster he shouted from the room, “No, thank you,” before holding his breath, willing himself to not come until this woman walked away - he’d leave her a big tip in a few hours after they vacated, but right now, he prayed to a few saints for patience.   
  
She didn’t sound upset, merely replied she’d come back later and then he heard her descend the stairs . . . _thank God_ .   
  
Looking down at Joe, he saw the wise ass smirk he sported out of the corner of that full mouth and if he didn’t love him so much he might have forced him off right then and there - but the playfulness in it, the raw desire as he sank down and up, faster and faster looked downright beautiful after the worry Nicky had been carrying for him.   
  
It felt hot and heavenly all at the same time . . . “Yusuf, please.”   
  
His tongue curled around the tip, swirling in talented circles, while his hand gripped him and began to stroke quickly - his favorite touch - and he closed his eyes as the wave washed over him. If Joe was the sun, and he was the moon - what they did to one another brought the stars. Bright, and white even behind closed eye lids.   
  
His body stiffened, and just in case the housekeeper might have heard, Nicky bit his lip to stifle the shout he would have otherwise given. He tasted the blood, but it healed just as quickly. Joe's searing hot mouth that had been wrapped around him didn’t relent until he sank back into the bed, sweat beading around his hair line, breaths staggered and thighs still trembling a little as Joe ensured not one drop was lost.   
  
When Nicky found the strength to open his eyes, Joe was already hovering over him, a grin he hadn’t seen in far too long. That look gave Nicky almost more relief than what Joe had just done to him, well, almost.   
  
“Good morning sleepy head.”   
  
Nicky smiled, “Good morning husband.”

**One Hour Later**

Once they had the overnight bag packed and propped against the cooler in the backseat, Nicky let out a small yawn. 

"You should let me drive."

Nicky scoffed a little, but not too seriously, "But then you'll know the next stop."

Joe leaned forward a little, reaching for the keys but stopping just before his fingers could encircle them, "You just look like you might fall back asleep again."

Dammit - the way Joe was smiling down at him, implied all sorts of things. Like he _knew_ damn well why Nicky would be tired after the work he did last night, and the orgasm he had thirty minutes ago that still left his body feeling like puddy. But he wasn’t going to admit it out loud, not with that playful smirk being all the confidence boost Joe needed. 

He was really glad he seemed to be feeling like himself again, at least for a moment - so he didn’t really need Nicky’s verbal confirmation anyways. One look from his tired eyes made him grin like the cheshire cat. Joe touched the keys carefully, knowing better than to try to snatch anything from him that he didn’t want to give up, but Nicky relented with a contented sigh, "Well I can't deny that. But it's not because I'm tired, just very, very relaxed."

"I promise to help you relax some more if I get to drive today?"

"Joe," the thought of what could await immediately in the next city had some things happening below the belt already. _If_ that was what Joe had in mind for the moment they got there, then maybe he should take him up on it, he would need that nap in the car.

Joe’s face softened a little, "You've done so much for me Nicky, please." There was a lot of meaning in that statement, and Nicky read between the lines - he was referring to the emotional support in the last few weeks, the way he had managed to knock down at least one (or maybe two) walls that the trauma had placed between them. But that word, _please_ , went straight below, and he looked at Joe with his big eyes, "You don't fight fair sir."

"We're fighting?," Joe feigned an aghast look, downright silly really.

"No,” Nicky smirked right back, “but that's only because you know I’d give you everything."

"Oh I'm counting on it at the next stop," Joe looked playful, but Nicky could hear it in his tone. He was serious. If there had been any blood left in his head he might have blushed at that. 

"Vienna," Nicky practically blurted it out. One nap, and then once it was dark . . .

Joe perked up, seemingly satisfied he understood his meaning just fine. Now he was twirling the keychain around his index finger as if it was a victory prize, "And the final stop?"

Nicky gave him a little _tsk, tsk_ , shaking his head, "Patience is a virtue."

Joe held the passenger door open for him, and gave him a horrible salute with a wink, "Ay ay St. Nicholas."

* * *

Hope you liked the mutual adoration ;)

I genuinly thought it would be one city per chapter, but I was really feeling for these two - and this big moment between them needed it's own chapter! "See" y'all in Vienna in a few days (with a flashback to the 1600s) :D

Kudos and comments appreciated! <3


	4. Thy Eternal Summer Shall Not Fade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the middle part of this fic - will be the reprieve from the angst before, and the angst after (yes, prepare yourselves for the next chapter!). But THIS chapter, this one is so sweet it might just send you into a sugar coma . . .

**Chapter 3 - Thy Eternal Summer Shall Not Fade**  
  
_As a man with many crimes / Come up for air_

_ As my sins flow down the Jordan _

_ Oh, I wanna come near and give ya / Every part of me _

* * *

Nicky stretched his arms out in front of him, but otherwise tried to enjoy the way the sun danced across his closed eyelids for a little longer. Joe had been humming a tune, and though it had woken him from his nap he couldn't have imagined a better way to end the mediocre dream he had been having (besides, what dream could possibly compare to this moment?). His husband hadn't sung since Morocco and his melodic voice encircled Nicky’s heart as he slowly allowed his body to wake up to the world.

Joe hadn't taken his eyes off the road, but attuned enough to realize Nicky was stirring, had already placed a warm hand on his thigh, "You  _ were _ sleepy after all."

Nicky's head bobbed a little against the headrest as he turned to look at Joe, "How long?"

"Four hours," he said it like it wasn't a big deal at all, and Nicky chuckled softly before he looked outside to get his bearings - they would still need to travel for another three hours before reaching the city. Over the hills beside them, it looked like mostly farmland, though a sign suggested a large lake that Nicky felt might be as good a stop as any to break for lunch. Pointing out the exit, Joe turned the wheel a little and they glided off the Autobahn before taking a few turns towards the rest stop at the waterfront.    
  
It was certainly more crowded than the picnic table they had enjoyed the day before - but it wasn’t like they didn’t have practice on blending in with a crowd.   
  
“And what do you pack for today habibi?”    
  
Nicky smiled as he reached for the cooler in the backseat, “Sorry to disappoint - but only leftovers from yesterday.”   
  
“I’m only going to be disappointed if there’s no longer honey - ,” Joe’s tone implying he was in a playful mood, and maybe licking honey off of each other’s fingers might go better today, than it did yesterday.

Nicky froze halfway back in the passenger seat, and turned to look outside, to see if anyone could look into the car, “Joe someone could see us.”    
  
“I know, I know - I have to wait to get you naked in Vienna.”   
  
Nicky slumped into the seat with the cooler in his lap, hoping the cold would keep the blood from pooling in his pelvic area, “Well, wouldn’t be the first time - “   
  
“Nor the last,” Joe grinned.

**Vienna 1667**

  
Even with both Joe and Nicky carrying each end, the frame was pretty heavy and they were all too happy to allow a servant of the Duke’s home to help carry it up the stone steps. Thick canvas sheets were draped over the portrait and balancing each step carefully, the trio carefully placed the piece on the wooden frame arranged near the door. Once accomplished, the servant clicked his heels and told them to wait while he would fetch the Duke for a final inspection of the art.   
  
Alone, standing in probably the grandest hallway they had ever seen, Joe and Nicky (still referred to as Joseph and Nicholas by the locals) shuffled a little uneasy. They definitely did not fit in this space - well, they didn’t fit in anywhere - but it felt more obvious among the gold trim on the walls. In this place, they were still merchants, but had dabbled in both the arts and intellectual gatherings - they were neither rich, nor poor. And yet, even now, Joe looked like the peak epitome of fashion with his linen collar, paned sleeves and crisp white chemise shirt. That day he was wearing his dark blue breeches, which Nicky thought made his skin look radiant in the sun. Even his beard was shaved to a point and he had trimmed it just that morning to present the painting.   
  
Nicky wore similar clothing, but far more demure. He preferred it that way, but had caved on one fashion trend - a lovelock. A small strand of hair grown longer than the rest, that rested on his shoulder. It was a silent announcement that he was in love, and every morning when he braided it he felt pride in declaring it - even if it wasn’t really out loud - that his heart was taken.   
  
But still, as handsome as they looked on the streets, they felt woefully underdressed in this grand entryway.    
  
As usual, Joe broke the silence first, “It felt strange to draw someone else hayati.”   
  
“Well I am glad you pulled yourself away from me long enough to do so,” Nicky smiled, though trying not to look at Joe while he did it, in case anyone walked in, “the pay alone will help us with the travel expenses and storage fees.”    
  
They were going to be meeting Andromache soon enough, having settled on a meeting place a year ago via carefully worded letters. Over the last several weeks, they had worked on dwindling their inventory, and making arrangements for a safe space to store their most important items for next time they circled back to this city. But even so, several wooden crates would be going with them, and they needed the extra gold coins to warrant less cargo on someone’s ship to transport their things. Besides, out of all the things they  _ could _ have done to get extra coin, Joe painting an old Duke’s portrait wasn’t so bad.   
  
“I am happy to see her, but will miss having you all to myself for a little while,“ Joe’s voice had that tone to it, the one where Nicky knew he wanted to reach out for him. He wanted to oblige, but it wasn’t safe to do so. Not here, not now - so before Joe could get too carried away, Nicky tried to change the subject, “But Yusuf - “   
  
“I know, she needs us. And that is a relief, honestly. She has been alone for too long, and I am glad she is no longer insisting on years at a time,” approaching footsteps, loud wooden heels tapping against the marble floors echoed towards them, “I think she is warming up to company again.”   
  
“I would not go that far,” Nicky teased, “She still hates the world. But I do think she misses us sometimes at least.”   
  
The Duke was announced by a man at the door who had walked ahead of him, and though Joe and Nicky bowed their heads as etiquette required of them, the Duke approached them with a certain sense of familiarity. Well Joe at least, since this was the first time he was meeting Nicky. The man had on a large wig, and his clothes sparkled with gold trim that Nicky was certain was authentic. In comparison to Joe and Nicky’s clothes he looked downright regal and Nicky wasn’t really sure what to make of the obvious differences between them. He merely watched as after a moment of conversation, Joe pulled the sheets off carefully and the Duke gasped in delight, “Joseph ist es wunderbar!”   
  
As much as the shrill in his voice made Nicky want to tune it out, he understood his excitement - Joe was as talented as anybody else in this town, and had painted a rather flattering image of the Duke (he looked a little younger and slimmer). The older man touched the canvas here and there, smiling -  _ beaming _ really, “Joseph you have really outdone my expectations - you are worth  _ every _ penny.”   
  
Joe was not a shy man, merely smiling and accepting the compliment kindly. What  _ was _ surprising was when the Duke then turned to him and spoke more openly but in a hushed tone, “I was going to give you a tip, but now, I think you’ve earned more - come to my little gathering tonight. Food, wine, and whatever  _ else _ you see you might like?” Then the Duke  _ touched _ Joe’s arm, and  _ winked _ .   
  
Nicky felt the heat rise to his cheeks, both from the implications and the anger - or was it jealousy? Joe was a striking creature, Nicky had seen more than his fair share of both women and men stare at him - but to so boldly suggest “fun times” at the Duke’s party that evening, right in front of him, felt . . . infuriating?    
  
He must have said it with his body, because when the Duke glanced over Joe’s shoulder and saw Nicky (probably noticing him for the first time), he stilled for a moment, “ _ Oh _ , I see.” He snapped his fingers, the servant behind him stepping forward with a silver tray. On it was a leather pouch with Joe’s payment inside, “I did not realize you already had someone to  _ gather _ with tonight.”   
  
Joe looked back at Nicky, completely oblivious - or purposely ignoring his husband’s stance - no soothing words for Nicky, or angry words for the Duke. In fact, Joe _ smiled _ . And that seemed to make Nicky feel even more flustered. Was he happy to see him angry? Turning back to the Duke, he accepted the money, bowed, and thanked him for the invitation, “It was a pleasure doing business with you Your Grace, and thank you for the invitation, but yes, I do have a previous engagement.”   
  
_ Yes, with your husband _ , Nicky bellowed inside his own head. The blood was pumping so hard in his temples, he thought surely a vessel would burst.   
  
Joe and Nicky waited for the Duke, then the servant, to leave the room, before turning to head back - they still had plenty of stuff to do. There were a lot of things swirling around Nicky’s head - mostly questions of possessiveness and if he could get away with bodily harm on the Duke. Then he felt bad about that - and started saying an Ave Maria under his lips.  _ Maybe _ , he thought, he should even pray a rosary once they got home.   
  
“What are you whispering about, amore mio?”   
  
“Nothing,” it came out bitter, and Nicky chewed on his lip, adding an extra penance for the tone he used on Joe.   
  
“Oh now I  _ must _ know - “ Joe practically skipped in front of Nicky, a teasing smile on his lips as if he was oblivious to the sour mood on his face. He couldn’t tell if Joe really didn’t realize how upset he was, or was choosing to ignore it, and he didn’t know which one was worse.   
  
“We probably should not argue on the street,” was his quick retort as he seamlessly bypassed Joe and continued the walk.   
  
Joe was undeterred, strolling right up beside him again with a grin, “Nicolo - you must know by now I only have eyes for you.”   
  
His heart stirred a little, but his pride? It had been wounded and he realized how ridiculous he was being - what had he expected Joe to do? Kiss him in front of the Duke? Besides, that felt like a smarmy idea . . . their love was not for display. Careful looks and touches were replaced by intense, and passionate moments behind closed doors. It had always been like that, why was it an issue now?   
  
Nicky sighed, grateful to have reached their apartment. He just wanted to finish loading the last boxes . . . But as soon as the door was shut, Joe was on him, turning him around until his arms encircled his shoulders, “Nicolo you  _ do  _ know how much I love you?” Nicky nodded. There were a lot of questionable things in the world, but Joe’s love was never one of them. Joe relaxed a little, but still kept a tight grip on him, “Only you? Forever.”   
  
“I do know that, you tell me every day -”, Nicky raised his hands to Joe’s wrists, feeling a little embarrassed to admit the next part, “And I suppose when that Duke suggested  _ something _ with his words, it was a reminder of how I do not say it nearly as well as you do. The way you  _ smiled _ at his words made me a little jealous,” Nicky shook his head a little, “a pitiful response really, I know.”   
  
Joe’s smile was broad, like he couldn’t believe _this_ was what Nicky was worrying about,“I was not smiling at the Duke’s  _ words _ \- but because I knew you were ready to lunge at him for speaking to me like that.”   
  
“What!” Nicky’s eyes widened and he tried to pull back a little, if anything because his arms felt like gesturing their surprise along with him. But Joe just laughed, as if this was really something funny. Once Nicky realized he was not going to let him go - he sighed against his hold.   
  
“Well you were contemplating it, right?” Joe urged him on with a broad smirk.   
  
“. . . Yes,” Nicky sighed, shoulders sagging, but still relieved. He had misread Joe’s reaction and that alone surprised him after so many centuries together.  _ Rage has a way of doing that _ , his mind countered,  _ not being able to see the whole picture _ .   
  
Before Nicky could get too lost inside his own head, Joe leaned forward and rested his forehead against his husband’s, “I do not need poetry from you to know how much you love me.” He laughed softly, “Besides, I talk enough for both of us.”   
  
Nicky wrapped his arms around Joe’s neck, closing his eyes, “That is true.”   
  
Joe’s index finger curled under Nicky’s chin, encouraging him to open his eyes and look up at him, “Besides, you do  _ plenty _ of beautiful things with your mouth that make my words second rate at best.”   
  
Nicky licked his lips, as Joe leaned forward, “Yusuf.”   


They didn’t have time right now, their ship was sailing in an hour and they still needed to pack the last crates onto the cart . . . but Joe could remind Nicky what he enjoyed about his mouth in a deep kiss.

  
**Present Day**   


For traveling, Nicky had packed a little pocket shrine - made a decade ago, from an old altoid mint tin. Inside it was decorated with a small image of the Blessed Virgin Mary, a little tea light and matches, and a rosary. Simple, plain, and attached with a binding to a liturgy of hours book he used a few times a day. Joe’s prayer rug - tucked neatly in it’s cylindrical carrying case - and prayer beads were in the same duffle bag in their trunk. Having missed several prayers that day already, they were both eager to settle into the apartment in Vienna to do their spiritual practices before dinner.   
  
They didn’t always do the best job with keeping up with it - either a mission, or a late night making them sleep through morning prayers - but it was another layer of their intimacy. Praying beside one another as the sun set, was as familiar to them as each other’s words, actions, and bodies. But as they opened the door to the latest booking, Nicky froze when he saw the three feet statue of Mother Mary by the door - and Joe chuckled behind him at the sight, “Do you think the owners are Catholic?”   
  
Nicky grinned, saying a small prayer before stepping inside, “Perhaps - either way, we are due for a set - should we set up by the window?”   
  
“Would it be horrible if I said I wanted to do other things first?”   
  
Joe had let the door slide shut, and wrapped his arms around Nicky’s waist from behind. His face sank into the space between Nicky’s neck and shoulder, instantly warming him, “Joe I promise I am elated some sexual attention has helped bring you back to me, but we do have some prior engagements to attend to. And I promise they are worth it.” There was no real fight behind his words, even his body sank deeper against Joe’s chest, refusing to break the hold.   
  
“Prayers, then dinner, and then -”, Joe pressed his hands from his waist, further down his stomach, “back home early tonight?”   
  
Nicky turned a little in his hold, looking up at his hazy eyes, “Well dinner - and a museum.”   
  
Joe’s attention perked up a little, “We haven’t been to one in a year - is there a special gallery you want me to see?”   
  
“Something like that . . . “ Nicky teased.   
  
“Hmm, okay you’ve piqued my curiosity, I’ll deny myself a little longer Nicolo,” bringing the back of his hand to his mouth, he kissed the knuckles, “But only till tonight.”   
  


**Vienna 1667**

  
  
He had planned on waiting till their anniversary to share what he had bought for Joe. But a few days early wouldn’t spoil things too much. Besides, who knew if they could really celebrate a private moment on the actual day anyway. Usually when Andromache called for them, it was in relation to a job - not really conducive to romantic strolls on the beach.   
  
Now that they had settled on the boat, a small cabin with two beds (and thankfully a lock on the door), they would be heading out on the ocean soon - and all that bopping of the sea made them more tired than anything else. No if there was any moment for a gift, this was it. With Joe unpacking their sleeping pack on the bottom bunk, Nicky thumbed over the coarse twine he had used to wrap the brown paper around the gift, “Yusuf - “   
  
“Mmm,” was his simple reply, acknowledging, but still working on the bed.   
  
Only when Nicky didn’t respond did he stop to turn and see what was going on - his face lit up instantly, “What is that you are holding?”   
  
“I bought it a few weeks ago, at the market.”   
  
“What is it?” Joe let go of the blankets, and closed the space between them in two strides.   
  
“A book - “   
  
Joe gently took the package from Nicky’s hands, “Oh _ that’s _ why we needed the extra coin - you spent it on a gift for me?”   
  
“For our anniversary - “ Nicky said quietly, suddenly feeling a little nervous for what he was about to do.   
  
“Should I give you mine now, too?” Joe asked as he began unwrapping it slowly.   
  
“No, I just - after today, what you said about not needing the words - I still - well here,” he tapped his finger on the engrossed letters on the side, and Joe turned it in his grip just enough to read the binding.   
  
“Nicolo,” Joe finished pulling the wrapping off and grinned at the title,  _ The Sonnets of William Shakespeare _ , “Aw, I miss Bill.”   
  
Nick crinkled his nose but only teasingly, “Only you would call him Bill - he hated that.”   
  
Joe lifted an eyebrow, “Except when the Earl of Southampton did . . . “    
  
“Well not that the Earl appreciated him like he should have - he was a little  _ too _ popular,” Nicky countered. England had been a weird place for them. Having enjoyed the Renaissance immensely throughout Europe, and hearing so many lovely things about the arts and plays there, they had crossed the English channel for some culture. They did get to watch the first presentation of “A Midsummer’s Night Dream”, a valiant effort of reality and fantasy worlds blending together - _and_ getting to run in a few of the same social circles as the playwright was nice. But they only ended up staying a year. Someone had let it slip that Nicky was praying the “old prayers” and though he knew he could survive the torture - what had happened to Quynh was too fresh on their minds. They left under a cloud of darkness, down the Thames, foregoing the opportunity to say goodbye to the artists to protect everyone involved. It was one of the few regrets they had past the Crusades.   
  
Joe was glancing through the book now, sitting on the edge of the bed, and Nicky stepped forward, “I know I cannot do poetry like you Yusuf -” He reached out his hand, and Joe handed him the book he was silently asking for, “but I found one that made me think of you, and I wanted to read it to you.”   
  
Joe smiled, as heavenly as ever, and Nicky felt the heat rush to his cheeks. Out of all the languages, English was by far the hardest to roll his tongue around on - and even after centuries of practice, the vowels could sometimes blend together in his head when spoken to. Conversations were a little more difficult in England than anywhere else (well,  _ so far _ ). Probably sensing his hesitancy, Joe pulled Nicky into his lap which almost immediately relaxed him. He looked so serious as he closed his eyes, willing himself to listen as Nicolo opened the page to the preselected sonnet, “Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? / Thou art more lovely and more temperate: / Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May / And summer's lease hath all too short a date:”

Joe’s grip tightened a little, a sly smile on his lips, but otherwise staying very still. He probably sensed this was hard for Nicky to pronounce and he didn’t want to distract him. So Nicky pressed on, “Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, / And often is his gold complexion dimm'd; / And every fair from fair sometime declines, / By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd;”

Then Nicky placed the book down carefully behind him - because the heart of this gift was that he had worked for hours trying to memorize the next part. The part that made him think of Joe. He reached up, taking Joe’s face in his hands - and his husband opened his eyes, that now looked a little glazed, obviously moved by the words, “But thy eternal summer shall not fade.” 

Joe’s breath hitched when Nicky leaned in, giving his cheek and jaw little kisses, “Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st; / Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade.”   
  
His breathing quickened a little when Nicky’s mouth trailed down to his neck, “When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st; / So long as men can breathe or eyes can see - “ Joe’s breath stopped all together, when Nicky gripped his curls behind his head, and dipped his head back so Joe would look at him, “So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.”   
  
He leaned in, but only gave Joe the faintest brush of his lips.   
  
Joe shuddered a little, obviously moved as his eyes pooled with unshed tears, “Oh ya amar - that was beautiful.”   
  
Nicky cupped Joe’s jaw with his other hand, feeling more emotional than he had thought he would, “I hope you know how much I love you Yusuf - you will not fade from me either.”   
  
“How could you ever think I do not know the depth of your love Nicolo?” Nicky smiled, relieved, and began to push Joe back on the bed. They couldn’t make love how they had wanted to, not with such close quarters, but if they could keep quiet Nicky could offer Joe some relief from what was happening in his pants.   
  
“How could I ever earn it?” Nicky looked down at Joe, truly considering himself blessed for this eternal man already writhing underneath him, pressing his bulge against his invading hand.   
  
“You do not need to earn it, you already  _ have _ it - and you will  _ keep _ it with those magical hands of yours,” Joe smiled, though it turned into a moan that Nicky swallowed with his mouth just in time before anyone outside could hear.

**Present Day**

Dinner was a light affair, Joe trying his best to convince Nicky they didn’t  _ have _ to go to the museum tonight - they could go in the morning, but Nicky was resolute. He had something special in store for his husband, and even his best pout would not deter him. Changing into something suitable, but as always unassuming, they walked the few blocks to the museum - its stone steps lit up by low hanging lights, and large displays near the doors announcing a special gallery exhibit of paintings from the 1600s. If Joe had suspected anything, he didn’t let on, and in the large crowd - with everyone looking at the walls, versus each other - Nicky reached for Joe’s hand.   
  
When warm fingers encircled his own, he smiled to himself more than anything else. Joe had done it because it felt natural, but Nicky had because he was waiting to use it as a tell for when his husband would notice . . . they had been wandering through the building for a good fifteen minutes, Joe making jokes about the fashion choices in the portraits until suddenly he stopped, his fingers tightening on Nicolo, “Is - Is that - ?”   
  
“Your painting?” Nicky looked pleased with himself, still waiting for the shock to subside on Joe’s face.   
  
“But -  _ how? _ Wasn’t it in the cave?” Joe hadn’t even looked back at him yet, amazed at how crisp the colors looked all these centuries later.   
  
“I had given it to the museum last year as an anonymous donation - and, well I paid for the restoration as well.”   
  
“What?” Joe exclaimed, finally looking back at Nicky, “That’s too much Nicky - you shouldn’t have spent that kind of money on me.”   
  
“Yes I  _ should _ ,“ Nicky teased back. 

Joe beamed, “You treat me like I’m a trophy husband.”   
  
No one seemed to be noticing them, the portrait hung at the far end of the display, and most of the crowd had either just finished looking at the area, or were still circling back. There was a small window of privacy for a few moments. Feeling comfortable, and really wanting Joe to know - Nicky stepped closer, pressing his body against his, “You  _ are _ my trophy husband, there is nothing I would not give you.” Joe closed his eyes, soaking in the words, before ducking in and giving Nicky the kind of kiss that left him lightheaded.    
  
It was over far too soon of course, but they’d make it back to the rental soon enough . . . resting his hands on Joe’s arms to steady himself, Nicky spoke softly, “The world deserves your art, Joe.”

Joe’s arms tensed, fighting the urge to pull him close again, "The world - nor I - deserve your kindness, but I'll soak it up anyway habibi."   
  
As the evening passed on they enjoyed the various galleries and when one hour turned into two, light cocktails were offered, and Joe and Nicky partook a little too much. Between the too light dinner earlier, the alcohol and their intense stares at one another, they both knew it was time to get going. What they hadn’t counted on was a summer thunderstorm that forced them to run most of the way back. By the time they reached the entryway of their rental, their clothes were soaked through - clinging to their bodies in all the areas that made it quite obvious that they were aroused.   
  
Normally, the effects of a beer or two passed through them quickly, but if it was enough liquor it could linger longer. Of course by morning their bodies were as good as new, no hangovers, no long term lasting effects. But right  _ now _ , the cocktails had been strong enough that even when they tried to strip they were a little wobbly on their feet. And as much as Joe seemed to want it, Nicky felt their first time after so long - especially after what they’ve been through - deserved to have all their senses sharp and present for it.    
  
Besides, he  _ had _ wanted to wait to reach their final destination in three days . . . he could hold out (barely of course, but he could). Joe would probably whine, and Nicky  _ could _ make a joke about a Catholic’s sense of delayed gratification being the best kind of foreplay - . . . or he could do  _ something  _ to help hold them over for a few more days.    
  
Joe was  _ far  _ too easily pressed to the wall behind him, his shoulders slumped, his eyes glassy and hooded. He looked like he had already been enjoyed thoroughly by Nicky, and the look, the way his mouth opened so easily as he leaned into him gave Nicky all sorts of tingling feelings in his chest, “Yusuf.”   
  
Joe reached up, a little haphazardly tugging at Nicky’s belt buckle till the thing clattered onto the wooden floor. There was no real sense of urgency behind the movements, though his tongue swirled quite easily around Nicky’s. They hadn’t even made it past the front closet when Nicky pushed his hands off the wall behind Joe, just enough to suggest they enjoy a nice bath. Joe groaned his response - always a good way to let Nicky know he was about as ready for him as he could be.    
  
Pulling him along, Nicky led the way to the large clawfoot tub - it would still be a tight fit with them in it, but certainly cozy nonetheless. Here was as good a place as any, as the hot water ran into the porcelain tub beside them, for Nicky to explain his intentions With Joe sitting on the toilet seat, a little dizzy it seemed, he kneeled in front of him, “I know you want to Joe - but I think we are a little too drunk right now.”   
  
Joe shook his head, both hands running over his face,  _ willing _ himself to get it more together it seemed. “It’ll pass” he muffled his reply through his fingers. 

But Nicky grinned, “Well it’s not like we can’t do  _ other _ things.”   
  
Joe’s fingers spread, just enough to reveal one curious eye looking down at Nicky which made him burst into laughter - a deep belly kind of laugh that made Joe’s shoulders shake, too. Only when the water had reached the proper depth did their laughter die down.    
  
Nicky pointed with his head and encouraged Joe to step in, hoping the hot water would help their muscles to relax. It might even draw some of the alcohol out of their body, if anything just so they could sleep better.   
  
_ Maybe _ , Nicky wondered . . . maybe he had packed too much into five days of traveling. They were always okay the next day, and it wasn’t like they were tired. But maybe Nicky had feared that if he  _ hadn’t _ kept Joe so busy, he’d get lost inside his head again. He promised himself that for the rest of the trip he’d keep the balance in mind: somewhere between wallowing in past sad events, or keeping so busy you couldn’t process the present, was going to be the sweet spot. He just needed to figure out where that balance laid.    
  
Once Joe had settled into the bath, Nicky stepped in carefully. He had planned on sitting with his back against Joe’s chest - at least at first. But seeing an all too erect Joe beaming up at him, was too much even for Nicky’s stoic resolve. He kneeled between Joe’s thighs and kissed him, deeply, _ passionately _ , until he felt Joe’s fingers go from his hair down to his chest - sinking lower and lower as he reached for the erection between Nicky’s legs.   
  
A moan escaped him, and Joe’s mouth caught it feverishly - his whole body felt hot to the touch, and Nicky’s hands gripped Joe’s cock between firm fingers, making his husband shake a little. Gasping for air, they parted; cheeks flushed, sweat glistening, mouths open and breathing hard, “Do you remember - before we left Vienna back then - how I learned Shakespeare’s words for our anniversary?”   
  
Joe’s eyes had closed, but he nodded encouraging Nicky on as he began to stroke.   
  
“But Thy eternal summer shall not fade - “ Nicky began, but he trembled to a pause when Joe stroked just as quickly as he was doing to him. Here he was trying to be romantic, and give Joe the words . . . but it was already beginning to get hard to think, “Nor lo-oose possession of  _ that _ fair -” Joe groaned, his head sinking into Nicky’s chest as their breaths quickened, “thou ow'st; / Nor shall Death - “ His muscles twitched, white hot flames of desire tightening around his groin. He could do this - he could say the words, he  _ had _ to, “br-b-brag thou wander'st in his shade.”

Joe’s body tensed, he was equally close, he could feel it in the way his dick was swelling just a little bit more in his hand.    
  
“When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st; / So long as m-me-men can breathe or eyes can see - “ And just like he had done on that ship almost four hundred years earlier, Nicky grabbed Joe by the damp curls behind his head, and pulled until Joe’s face peered up at him - all desire, all wanton, mouth slack as he lost the last bit of resolve in Nicky’s embrace, under his penetrating stare, “So long lives this, and this gives li-life to thee.”   
  
Joe closed his eyes, cumming between them, and though normally Nicky hated to let it go to waste, the sight of him bucking his hips into his still stroking grip was enough to undo the tight coil that had held him down so far - like a spring that flew off, he too came lunging forward, hips jerking, water splashing everywhere - until finally their bodies settled against one another, panting hard but satisfied nonetheless.   
  
“Thanks Bill,” Joe finally chuckled in the now cold water.   
  
“Only you would call him Bill - he hated that.” Nicky hadn’t realized it then, but it had been the same retort he had given Joe on the ship almost four centuries ago.    
  
Some things never change.  _ Thank God,  _ Nicky thought.

* * *

I hope you aren't all in a sugar coma . . . and maybe I jumped the shark here by having some um, mutual adoration happening to Shakespeare . . . but we needed one full chapter of fluff before the next one. I promise it'll be angsty AND I will resolve it by the end, no cliffhangers, but let's just say Joe has a set back and Nicky goes a little feral on someone. Chapter Five coming in a few days - as always, kudos and comments make my heart soar, thank you in advance!


	5. Curls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joe and Nicky make it to Belgrade, Serbia - but they have a few more days to travel before reaching the final destination. However, though things seem to be going better, will a random attack set Joe backwards on his healing journey? Not if Feral!Nicky has anything to say about it . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couple of warnings ladies and gents
> 
> This chapter will come with a trigger warning that I will include in brackets and bold type before and after the scene - *spoiler alert* it involves an attack on our favorite couple for being gay, but Nicky beats the crap out of them, so there's that. However the words hurled against them, and just the attack in general can be triggering, so again, please feel free to read around the brackets that I will label within this chapter.
> 
> Also, there is a SEX scene now (only took five chapters). However if you do not want to read that either, don't read past the "Three Hours Later" bold print near the end.

**Chapter Five - Curls**

_ But there's blood on my hands / And my lips aren't clean _

_ Take me to your river / I wanna go / Go on, _

_ Take me to your river / I wanna know _

* * *

_**Belgrade, Serbia** _

“I’m surprised  _ amore mio _ \- I was expecting another rental, but this hotel is quite fancy.”    
  
Nicky stepped out of the car and smiled more to himself than at Joe, who was now whistling at the downright glistening building. The outside was made up of stone, but large walls of glass lined each side and the sunset over the Danube river reflected in the panels beautifully.   
  
“Just for tonight - “   
  
“So Belgrade isn’t the final destination?,” Joe began to grab some of their luggage from the trunk, while Nicky reached for their reservation print outs by the dashboard shaking his head, “No, two more days of traveling - patience is -”   
  
“A virtue, I know, I know.” Joe had come up behind him, and though he was only jesting, nothing about his stance implied humor - he practically caged Nicky in against the open car door, and smiled almost deviously, “I wonder if I could tease it out of you tonight.”   
  
Nicky felt his body respond instantly under Joe’s wicked stare, the way he licked his bottom lip made his eyes feel heavy - the meaning  _ quite _ clear, “Joe - “   
  
“Let me guess,” Joe dipped his head against Nicky’s neck, nuzzling the scruffy beard against the sensitive skin, “You made some plans?”   
  
Nicky wanted to slap him against the arm, but Joe chuckled, pulling away before he could resolve to follow through with it, “ _ Yes _ , I do have something planned.”   
  
Taking one of the bags from Joe, he led them towards the lobby, “I may have booked this place solely for the guest activities.”   
  
“And which one are we doing tonight?”   
  
“A baking class.”   
  
Joe grinned, not following, “But you already know how to cook everything - or -” Then his eyes widened a little - and he stopped Nicky with a light touch on his arm just before they reached the revolving doors, “ _ oh no _ \- is it for me, are you hoping I can make you something special tonight?” Flashes of  _ centuries  _ of burned dinners rushed before his eyes in quick succession . . .    
  
“No, no, a  _ baking _ class Joe - because no matter how well I can cook, you decorate the pastries so beautifully. I wanted to show you off a little to the others. It’ll be an easy class to pass.”   
  
Joe leaned forward in relief, gently placing his forehead against Nicky’s and closed his eyes, “You want to show me off huh.”    
  
“Always,” he replied, but being more aware of drawing attention than Joe seemed to be, pulled back a little before his husband could get too lost in the moment, “But first we need to check in, drop off these bags - have dinner in their restaurant,  _ then _ baking class.”   
  
“Anything else on the itinerary?” Joe stood a little taller, slinging the bag over his shoulder now, mischievous as ever.   
  
“Well I thought we could enjoy a stroll by the river, stretch our legs after the long car ride?”   
  
Joe shook his head with a teasing smile, “That’s not what I meant.”

But Nicky had already turned on his heel, heading for the door with an equally sly smile, “Oh I know. But as you know, patience is -”   
  
Joe feigned exacerbation, “A virtue.”

After checking in, they dropped off the bags in their room - on a high enough floor that the view went over several of the older buildings in the city. The sun was almost over the horizon, beautiful swirling clouds of red and purple traveling down towards the large river that divided the city. The hotel’s restaurant was bustling in the middle of summer, open to all this time of year, not just guests at the hotel. They were seated at a small table in the corner, and seeing as they hadn’t been to Belgrade in over a hundred years, enjoyed every bit of the duvec stew.   
  
But the fun part of the evening was after dinner, when they, and three other couples met with the pastry chef in the kitchen after the dining room was closed. Quick introductions were had, and though Nicky was always a little nervous to announce their marriage with a group of strangers, everyone was very kind - welcoming even. And as the class went on, and it became obvious that Joe was the star student, Nicky fell back a little just watching Joe smile and make jokes about the most mundane things. 

By the end of the class, the other couples were sad to hear that they were only staying that night - having wanted to invite them ( _ well, really Joe _ , Nicky figured since it was his husband who had charmed everyone) - out to a few events the hotel was hosting over the next week. Joe  _ really _ sealed the deal as the most romantic among them when he thanked them but said he wanted to keep Nicky to himself during their second honeymoon. Of course, it was more like the  _ 900th _ one, but a little white lie about that surely didn’t require any penances later.   
  
When the macaroons and cupcakes were done, they were wrapped in a simple white box, and the waiter came by to personally take them to their various rooms - the three couples heading to the spa services, while Joe took Nicky’s hand in his, as comfortable as ever.    
  
Outside, the sun had finished setting, but there were enough street lights along the sidewalks to light the way. They crossed over a bridge, watched a few boats pass, but Nicky still preferred to keep a respectful distance in public. Too many centuries of “coming out” over and over again had left him a little too on edge to lean on Joe’s shoulder in public. A long time ago, when they had first realized just how deep their feelings ran, they sometimes got carried away. It wasn’t  _ always _ a violent response, but enough times it had been - and so even walking on the street with Joe could sometimes feel overwhelming, like he was coming out all over again. Each stranger felt like a replay of the experiences: would this one be accepting? Would this one glance away in disgust? Would this one smile and nod? Would that one curse at them? Would that one attack them . . . ?   
  
When Joe reached for Nicky’s hand on the bridge, it wasn’t that he tensed at Joe’s touch ( _ no, never that _ ). But his instinct told him to scan the space with his eyes to see if anyone else nearby had noticed. Instead, he spotted the marketplace about a hundred yards away, and gestured at it, “Joe, look - it’s still there.”   
  
Maybe it was the excitement of seeing the marketplace in the same location it had been in centuries earlier, maybe it was because of the welcoming atmosphere at the hotel, for whatever reason, Nicky didn’t pull away from Joe’s hand, as he gently led them down the bridge towards the lit up stalls along the cobblestone streets.

Pausing at the entrance, Joe beamed at the signs, and old buildings, smiling, “I remember the last time we were here . . . “

**_Belgrade 1735_ **

They were at the stall in the market square, looking for a few fabrics to add to their small store three blocks away. They had been in Belgrade for almost two years already, and in that time had done fairly well for themselves. It also helped that the city’s rivers of the Danube and Sava (and multiple occupations between the Ottaman and Habsburg Empires) had created quite the mish posh among the population and culture. Two merchants who could speak several of their varied customers languages definitely helped. Of course no one knew they were married, so Belgrade still wasn’t easier than anywhere else, but it wasn’t as fearful either, thanks to mix in the population.  _ Not easy, not fearful _ , Nicky reasoned once,  _ maybe, comfortable? _   
  
As usual, Joe looked the part of the merchant - seeing as he had been doing it for almost six centuries now - and he believed a good merchant should be able to wear his own stock. That day’s outfit featured his nicely trimmed knee length coat, over an olive colored vest, while the frilled linen shirt was hidden underneath, but peeked out around the wrists. Nicky bit his bottom lip to remind himself not to stare. But it was hard when Joe did look  _ rather _ dashing.   
  
Joe was asking the fellow merchant about his latest shipment from the port, and Nicky watched as the man hauled a huge wooden crate between them. With Joe’s help they dislodged the top, and Nicky scrunched his nose at the sight. 

They weren’t here for fabric materials after all he realized, but instead for something called a tricorn hat (well it had a few names by then). It looked a little odd to Nicky, and seeing it up close, he had no plans on giving up his wool cap anytime soon. But Joe looked excited to try one on, and who was Nicky to deny him such an easy happiness?    
  
Of course once it was settled on his head, he turned to Nicky before even looking at himself in the nearby mirror. He  _ wanted _ to like it, simply because Joe seemed to (though Joe seemed to like most of everything, he was pretty easy to please), but he also didn’t want to lie either, “I am not so sure about this fashion statement Joseph.”   
  
Joe was undeterred, still grinning, “Well supposedly it is very popular in France, and they said it will make its way here, you really do not like it?”   
  
Nicky walked around to his side, studying the way the hat sat on his head - examining it from the side, and back as well, before returning to Joe’s front. He leaned in a little, in case the hatter could hear him from the other side of the stall, “I do not like how it hides your curls.”   
  
Joe beamed, as if Nicky had said something _truly_ romantic, when really he was just making a statement. But still, Joe’s dark eyes looking down at him stirred his heart nonetheless, “Nicolo, you charm me . . . “ He immediately took the hat off, and thanked the merchant for his time, before leading Nicky out of the stall with a hand that hovered on his lower back. It wasn’t touching him of course, but it was close enough that he followed Joe’s lead out onto the street.   
  
“N-now you are  _ not _ purchasing the hat?”   
  
“You like my curls better, and I always want you to like what you see,” Joe replied oh so casually.   
  
Nicky felt a familiar yearning, and before he could think better of it, he pulled Joe to the nearest alley way. It was barely noon, far too many people could have passed by, but there were enough carts and boxes lining the space that Nicky pressed Joe against the stone wall and slid his hand to the back of Joe’s hair. Grabbing a whole fistful of those gorgeous, soft, black curls, Nicky paused just long enough to declare, “ _ Yes _ I do love these curls, but even if you did not have any of these - I would still like what I see.”   
  
“Now you  _ really _ charm me,” Joe winked before pulling Nicky flush against his body. A little groan emitted from them both right before their mouths clashed together. It was only a moment, over far too quick, because someone really  _ could _ have walked around the corner. So before that could happen, Nicky pulled away and suggested they head back to the safety of their storefront apartment.    
  
Joe pushed himself off the wall, and smoothed a hand over the hair Nicky had tousled, just as eager as he was to rush back home.   


  
**_Present Day_ **

They had glanced at a few stalls, some lined with fabrics, some with crafts and trinkets. And of course there were plenty of tourist pieces. One stall had all sorts of items, each one emblazoned with the name “Belgrade” on them. It was there that Joe’s eyes lit up as he spotted large hats. Nicky knew that face, a teasing, sarcastic one that meant he was in a playful mood. But he outright chuckled when Joe held up a ridiculously large white hat, as if saying,  _ “Should I?” _   
  
Nicky shook his head  _ ‘no’ _ with a smirk, but Joe gave a fake pout, “Well I do deserve a chefs hat for my macaroons.”

Nicky stepped a little closer, taking the hat from Joe, before glancing at the stall for anything less assuming (which was just about every other hat lining the stall), “I still prefer to see your curls, but if you insist on a hat, then yes,  _ this _ one could work.” He reached for a simple baseball cap, Joe’s favorite kind. Little whisks of his hair would stick out from all directions, and it would take a shower to get them to return to their natural swirl, but he had to admit - his husband did look cute in them.   
  
Handing the merchant a crisp bill of local currency, Nicky placed the hat on Joe’s head for him, and took a step back, “There, much better than a chefs hat.”   
  
“Hm, you spoil me,” Joe adjusted the strap just a little and turned it backwards like he always did. But sure enough, plenty of curls escaped.

“Not nearly enough,” Nicky looked up at Joe, his eyes going a little glossy, “I don’t think it’ll ever be enough.”   
  
There it was again, that familiar yearning. The night before, the night they  _ almost _ made love but got too drunk instead - played out in his mind almost all day. They had traveled for hours, and Nicky decided on only one activity, versus the original three he had planned so as not to tire themselves out too much before tomorrow's big day. But Joe seemed to be more himself than he had been in days (well really,  _ weeks _ ), and though Nicky had hoped to wait to get to their final destination it was getting harder and harder to resist the looks, the  _ touches _ , that Joe was giving him throughout the day. Even now, a hat was nothing in comparison to what he  _ could _ be giving him back in the hotel.    
  
That mental eclipse that Joe had been struggling with - that had been keeping them separated for too long seemed to have passed. And now, it felt like Nicky was looking at the sun again -  _ his _ sun. Like a moth drawn to a flame, it was getting harder not to fly right into it.    
  
Joe’s face softened a little, more than adept at reading Nicky’s tiny nuances and shifting moods. Stepping closer, their bodies almost touching, he reached a careful hand (in case anyone was looking) to touch the sleeve of Nicky’s light jacket, “Do you want to head back to the hotel?”   
  
Nicky’s breath caught in his throat for a moment, before he glanced away from Joe. Not _because_ of Joe, but in case anyone had noticed them. When he didn’t see anyone looking their way, he released the air on a hitch, “ . . . yes.”

Joe took Nicky’s hand in his, and led the way, as assured as he always was - or maybe worried Nicky would come up with another reason to wait another day. It made Nicky smile to himself, because he  _ had _ considered holding out, but it was time - they both felt it. 

In fact, Nicky thought of the memory of that alleyway three hundred years earlier. And how they kissed for a moment before making love in their store - Joe bending over the desk, not even able to wait to get to their apartment above. The windows had been shut for their lunch, the door secured, and in a hurried frenzy, with knee breeches bunched at their ankles Nicky made love to Joe - his fingers tangled in those curls he loved so much, the other hand holding him down at the waist.    
  
So now when he spotted a dark alley, telling himself it was safer in the dark than at high noon three centuries before - he thought they could steal another moment. Another memory of their past.

Years from now, Nicky would still be doing penances for this mistake - for allowing lust to override his senses - for not noticing the three men across the street who had spotted them ducking into the alley, arms and hands clasping for another before landing against the stone wall.   
  
It was all so lovely . . . until it wasn’t.

**[ Trigger Warning ]**

Nicky had leaned Joe against the stone wall, hands freely roaming across his body - chest, sides, hips. Just a  _ little _ taste before they would reach the hotel . . . Joe had his face between his warm hands, smiling against Nicky’s desperation, soaking in the affection that his husband normally reserved for behind closed doors. And when Joe’s hips pressed against Nicky’s growing erection, he moaned into Joe’s mouth - 

“What do we have here?” a heavily accented stranger shouted from the end of the alley.   
  
Nicky immediately pulled away, but only to turn around and block whoever was coming towards them from getting to Joe. Though he should have figured his husband wouldn’t stay behind him long, especially once a second, then a third man appeared. There they stood, side by side - silently waiting to see just how bad this was going to be.   
  
“Looks like a queer little race traitor if I ever saw one.”   
  
Nicky groaned - it was going to get bad.   
  
“What did you just say?” Joe bellowed at the man standing closest to Nicky.   
  
The man pulled out a small pocket knife, and practically spat out in indignation, “ _ Don’t _ talk me to Arab.”

Nicky knew he should be the bigger man - not stoop down to their level, not engage in the kind of depravity they lived in. The youngest in their little delinquent group could not have been older than 13, wide eyed, scared, likely just dragged along for the ride. Whatever he saw in Nicky’s warning eyes urged him to bolt down the alley way into the darkness behind the nearest building. The other two merely smirked - they thought two against two _gay_ men would be an easy target.   
  
That was their mistake.   
  
“Give us your money and maybe we’ll let you get away with just a few punches.”

They hadn't been mugged in  _ decades _ , and Nicky hated himself for letting his guard down.  _ Why _ hadn’t he learned in all this time that sometimes, even if you deserve some peace and quiet, it can never be guaranteed. The experiences with Merrick had felt so heavy - so  _ madde _ _ ning _ , and cost  _ so  _ much. And worse, it had desensitized him a bit. It had made him forget that evil mad scientists weren't the only ones they had to look out for . . . And he hated it.    
  
Sure, in comparison to what they had overcome so far, this was  _ nothing _ . But it shouldn't be happening, not  _ now _ , not when he just got Joe back. And that was what scared Nicky the most. He couldn’t imagine the fall out from this - the set back Joe would likely collapse back into because it had simply not been enough time away from the violence. Would that horrible eclipse come back now? A part of Joe reserved, and hidden from his reach?    
  
He hated  _ himself _ for getting them in this moment, as  _ much _ as he hated the two men in front of them . . . and that hate made his blood boil, “No you won’t - “ 

The men glanced at one another, surprised he wouldn’t just roll over, give them their wallets and allow them to hit them a few times for the privilege. Nicky’s hands balled into tight fists, if his nails would have been longer, they would have made the skin in his palms bleed, “Because you just want to knock us around - you’re not the first, nor the last.”

“You little piece of - “ the bigger man raised his hand - the pocket knife reflecting in the moonlight - but Joe was on it so quick that the men looked stunned.

Except Nicky of course. Because no matter what Joe was going through. No matter what Joe had been dealing with, or processing, he would  _ never _ freeze seeing Nicky in danger. Something primal would override his fear and sure enough, when the pocket knife was raised at Nicky, Joe lunged forward taking the grunt of it in his shoulder blade. He yelped, his face contorting, bracing his hands on the wall behind Nicky - but doubling over in pain. It was not a killing wound, but still enough to make Nicky see red.

The second man kicked Joe in the back immediately, and he fell to the pavement hard - knocked unconscious. In a way that was probably a good thing, Nicky thought - less blood for Joe to see splashing by the time he came to.   


When the one to the right tried grabbing Nicky by the arm, he dodged it easily, slinking down and kicking the man’s feet out from under him. The way the mugger’s body landed on his back knocked the wind out of him, and the second man stood there in shock. 

It went pretty quickly after that. 

While the man was on the ground gasping for air, Nicky grabbed the second one - the one that had stabbed Joe who was still lying unconscious - and shoved him against the stone wall behind them, his head made the same kind of cracking sound that Joe’s had made when he landed against the dirty pavement. His knees wavered - but still he looked more confused than anything else.   
  
Pulling the man close to him by the edges of his jacket, Nicky thought of Joe starting to stir on the ground, groaning but alive. He needed to finish this up, because no matter what, it would hurt Joe to see Nicky bloody and hurt (though so far the only blood he had on him were from the muggers). He wished he could rise above it. Give Joe a break from the violence, and yet it found them anyway - the only thing he could do was prove to Joe that they could survive it. They survived _everything_ so far - they survived Merrick’s lab. They would survive _this_. He hadn’t started this - but he would finish it, and then take Joe away from here.   
  
Seething, defensive, and resolutely, Nicky banged the man’s head against the wall again. Blood started leaking out of his ears. There was a good chance he’d survive this though - but he wasn’t going to let him do it painlessly. Pulling the man close again, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, Nicky spoke through clenched teeth - his tone eerily calm, “When you wake up in the hospital, and they tell you you’re paralyzed - and you cry,  _ ‘Why?’ _ -”   
  
Then, with the precision of a thousand year old warrior, he pulled the man over his shoulder, forcing him to land on his spine at an angle - shattering the lower portion. He looked like a rag doll lying there, but he would live with the mistake he made for the rest of his life. Finally Nicky breathed normally again - the second man, their supposed leader had bolted right away after Nicky had banged this man’s head against the wall - but the man who stabbed Joe was staring up at Nicky from the ground as helpless as he could be. As helpless as he had  _ made _ them feel, and God help him, but Nicky’s first thought was,  _ ‘good’. _ _   
_ _   
_ He leaned down, balancing on his heels, breath calm and stable now that it was finished, “ . . . Know the reason  _ ‘why’ _ , was because you stabbed the man I love.”   
  
The man gurgled something, spitting out blood that landed on Nicky’s shirt - but Nicky was done.   


Joe hadn’t stood up yet - his eyes wide, but no matter - he was healed. Only frozen by his own emotions. Nicky hated the way the blood looked on him - in his curls, on his shirt, on his face - and Nicky probably looked worse. He felt like they just took three steps back. 

**[ End Trigger Warning ]**

Nicky scrambled over to him, carefully helping him up - but Joe was still silent, _ too _ silent. He looked at the man on the ground, but Nicky kept his eyes on Joe, his hands gripping him firmly around his upper torso, “Joe - we _ need _ to go.”   
  
Still silence, but Joe at least nodded, seemingly understanding that there was a good chance this man’s friends could return at any moment - and possibly bring more with them. Hurrying in the opposite direction, through the maze of alleyways that were not lit, they hoped that anybody who  _ might _ see them wouldn’t be able to tell the blood on their clothes with the dark colors they were wearing.

They went to the back of the hotel, through the servants entrance of the kitchen, and then took a service elevator up to the second floor from a swiped card from a waiter’s unlocked storage cabinet. Nicky made a mental note to send Copley a text about wiping the hotel’s cameras - though he was certain they had stayed under the radar - _but_ _well, just in case . . ._   
  
Joe was easily led down the hall, and up the endless flight of stairs, but still hadn’t said a word. It scared Nicky more than the knife that had tried to slice through his flesh just minutes earlier.

Once he pulled them through their hotel room door, and bolted the locks, he whipped around and pulled Joe back into his arms. Desperate to calm him, to tell him they were safe now, to make that eclipse that had snuffed out his light go away again. He had done it before, could he do it again?   
  
“Yusuf - “ Nicky heard the pain in his own voice, the need for Joe to respond, to say  _ something _ .   
  
His shaky hands reached up, gliding over Nicky’s elbows, and up to his shoulders forcing Nicky to pull back - but only enough to look at him, “Nicolo - “   
  
His voice cracked a little, seemingly unable to continue, and Nicky felt his heart breaking for him. Gently he glided past him, dragging Joe further into the room. The box of Joe’s pastries had been placed on the bed with rose petals underneath it - a sign of happier times not an even hour earlier. Now he needed to move it and help them clean the blood off their clothes and skin.    
  
Encouraging Joe to sit on the edge of the bed - Nicky made quick work of moving the box to the dresser, before grabbing a washcloth from the bathroom to wet. Once he returned he knelt in between Joe’s legs, who looked exhausted, and worn, and Nicky felt like there was not  _ one _ word that could be spoken now that would help him.    
  
Slowly, carefully, he removed his jacket for him, then his hat - but Joe’s eyes widened when he spotted a few drops of blood on it. Tears pooled in them, and his shoulders shook a little, “You - just bought it for me - and now it has your blood on it.”   
  
Nicky leaned up on his knees, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him as close to himself as he could, “Ssh, ssh, it’s not mine. It’s not mine.” He couldn’t tell him it was okay though, couldn’t tell him it would never happen again . . . all he could do when he felt Joe’s face against his neck, wet tears against his skin, was to lift Joe’s face between his hands. Joe’s hurt, was  _ his _ hurt - and worse, he felt like this was his fault. Why did he have to stop in that alley?   
  
Joe’s tears remained largely unshed now, but still, one escaped under his gaze, and Nicky rubbed it away with the pad of his thumb. Leaning forward, he pressed his forehead against Joe’s, and quietly pleaded, “Come back to me Yusuf - come back.”   
  
It took minutes, though it felt like it had stretched hours, before Joe’s breathing matched Nicky’s own steady beat. But  _ finally _ , his hands lifted up to Nicky’s face and he whispered, “I’m here, I’m here.”

Nicky’s eyes opened, but Joe looked spent - emotionally exhausted. He said nothing as Nicky finished stripping himself and him from their bloody clothes. And he still didn’t say anything as he carefully wiped down their skin as well. The room was silent, but the space was filled with all the things left unsaid . . .   


Nicky pulled back the covers of the bed, the silk sheets feeling cool against their skin, and encouraged Joe to lay down first. As always, he pressed himself with his back to Joe’s chest - between Joe and the door. Between Joe and the world. He had kept him safe that night, like he had every night, and he hoped Joe knew that somewhere deep down. It wasn’t until Joe’s breathing was steady against his neck, that Nicky finally closed his eyes, and tried to rest.

**Three hours later . . .**

“Nicolo - “   
  
“Hm?”   
  
“Nico - “   
  
Nicky had been dead to the world - weighed down by guilt and exhaustion and worry - but Joe’s body hovering over his brought a kind of comfort like nothing else could.    
  
A naked Joe even more so.   
  
“What - ?” Nicky started to ask, but Joe straddled on top of him, and his body instantly responded, his back arching a little against the heat between Joe’s legs, “W-what are you doing?”   
  
Joe’s face was hard to read in the dark, but his body felt more alive than earlier. His hands ran over Nicky’s chest, his fingers spreading on the skin over Nicky’s heart, “I almost lost you tonight -  _ again _ .”   
  
“Never -,” Nicky reached up, his own hands rubbing gentle circles on Joe’s thighs, “you’re never going to lose me.”   
  
Even in the dark room, he could see Joe nodding his head - that truth washing over him, and comforting him. It was all he could have hoped for . . . and then Joe slid his hand down from his chest, towards his stomach, “Joe - “ It wasn’t a denial, certainly not a warning, but a question.    
  
He put his hand on Joe’s traveling wrist, and pulled it up to his mouth to pepper it with a kiss, “We shouldn’t - not after the kind of night we had. I’m afraid you might be feeling a little vulnerable.”   
  
“That’s exactly why we should,” Joe countered and Nicky tried to read his husband’s gaze. Not sure if he was being serious, “But - “   
  
Joe pressed his legs against Nicky’s hips, making his arousal quite clear. The space between felt slick, as if he had likely already prepared himself for this beforehand - all Nicky had to do was accept . . . even though his mind was trying to find reasons not to, his own cock came to full attention against the gentle rocking of Joe’s hips.   
  
“I - I wanted it to be more romantic for you - a seduction,” Nicky’s fingers pressed into Joe’s hips - though whether he was trying to stop him, or urge him on, was unclear. It was getting hard to think straight with this man on top of him, “I was going to wait till t-tomorrow - candlelight dinner, a walk on the beach . . . " 

"Nous avons attendu assez longtemps  _ [We waited long enough] _ ,” Joe hummed, pace quickening, “Je me sens tellement déconnecté  _ [I’ve been feeling so disconnected] _ \- please Nicolo, _ please _ ."    
  
Nicky  _ was _ equally desperate to feel that ultimate physical connection. But he was still a little worried that this wasn’t for the right reasons. Was this more out of desperation versus love? He liked to view their love making as a culmination act, not a band aid. Somehow that cheapened it for him, like he would be using Joe to satisfy himself, versus connect with him.    
  
And yet Joe was the confident one, the sunshine, the assured one - right now, he was being so vulnerable, and saying _exactly_ what he needed. Laying himself bare in the arms of his lover - knowing that Nicky would catch him if he shattered. If this was what he really wanted, could Nicky really deny it to him? He had told him just two days ago to cling to him, realizing he would need to meet Joe where  _ he _ was at. And right now, this was the place. 

Nicky sat up, balancing himself on his arm, as the other wrapped around Joe’s waist, “Are you sure?”   
  
Joe leaned into Nicky’s embrace, one hand on his husband’s neck, the other gliding down to his cock, "Je te veux maintenant, comme je te voulais alors  _ [I want you now, like I wanted you then] _ .” Then his fingers wrapped tightly around his dick, and Nicky hissed at Joe’s words ringing in his ear, “ _ Please _ ya amar."

Nicky buried his face in Joe’s neck, and smiled against the skin, "You do not fight fair."

Joe began to kiss his neck, beard scratching at the skin, stroking the stiffening member in his grasp, "No I don’t, and when it comes to you, I never will.” Nicky felt himself tensing already, as Joe began to pick up speed, “I will play every hand, card, trick,  _ whatever _ I have to keep you."   
  
Unlike those first times a millenia ago, when Nicky restrained himself, shy and unsure of what to do when Joe would straighten his cock, aligning it to his opening - . . .  _ now _ he clung to Joe, pressed against him as tightly as he could. When the head breached the hot center, Nicky couldn’t keep his eyes away from watching himself slowly disappear inside him. But even this, slowly entering Joe would never feel enough. Their bodies needed to be  _ wrapped _ around one another, skin against skin - Nicky’s fingers twirled tightly in his curls. Joe’s firm hands on his trembling shoulders as they both stuttered out gasping breaths, as he sank down inch by inch.   
  
After so many weeks, after so many horrible things had happened - this deep connection, with Joe fully sheathed on top of him - felt like the closest to Heaven Nicky would ever have. And he was ready to pray and worship . . .    
  
They froze their hips for a moment, just appreciating the tight fit, catching their breaths before they really got going. Nicky’s hand, the one that had a tight hold on his curls, now softened and trailed down to the back of his neck. Joe’s eyes looked glazed, and hooded, his face flush. He was never more beautiful than in this moment.    
  
And even though Nicky meant it as a question, it came out more like a declaration, “Mine.”   
  
Joe’s eyes closed as he breathed out a moan, “Yours.”   
  
Slowly Joe began to move - a steady pace, adjusting to find that perfect angle. But it had been so long, and the emotions too frayed - there was a desperation building between them, and within just a few thrusts Joe was pushing Nicky’s back onto the bed so he could find a more steady,  _ deeper _ , angle. Nicky’s back arched off the bed, but even so, the sight of the moon light bleeding in through the curtains gave him such a lovely view. Joe’s face looked at peace, even as his mouth went slack trying to concentrate on the movements of his hips.   
  
After so many centuries, they knew what they liked - and the way they both enjoyed it best was when the other one was doing the work. When they could just lay back and not think of the weight of the world bearing down on them. So many horrible thoughts had been swirling around Joe’s mind lately - and Nicky wanted to push them out one act of love at a time. Now would be no different.   
  
He stilled Joe’s hips, and then flipped them over before Joe even realized what was going on. He merely looked up at Nicky, questioning - 

“Hold onto to something.”    
  
Joe groaned, only pausing for a moment, before raising his arms above his head to reach for the headboard. Nicky sat up a little, grabbing Joe’s hips and resting them against his thighs. Neither would last long in this position, but that wasn’t really the point of it anyways. Nicky wanted to give him what he needed, replace this horrible evening with a fresher memory - just like they had been doing this entire trip.   
  
Joe’s dick jerked, beginning to leak between them, but he still held on - wanton,  _ ready _ . His muscles twitched, his nipples hard, his stomach taut and writhing.  _ No, it won’t take long at all _ \- Nicky thought. Then he grabbed Joe’s calves and lifted them across his shoulders, and once Nicky bucked his hips forward, at  _ just _ that perfect angle, there wasn’t a millimeter of space between them.    
  
“I love you,” Nicky said as he leaned over Joe’s body, pressing himself close. But before Joe could even reply, Nicky began to thrust - not shallow thrusts, nor hesitantly - just raw, heavy,  _ thick _ thrusts that had them both moaning and gasping within moments. Nicky always knew he was doing a good job when Joe was at a loss for words. But he also followed instructions well, he never did let go of the headboard.   


Sweat beaded between them, shining in the moonlight, moist flesh against moist flesh, as Nicky kept bucking, barreling them down to an orgasm within minutes. Joe ended up cumming without his cock ever having been touched, spurting out between them - and Nicky could never deny himself the view of watching his sun shine like that - the way his mouth hung open, gasping for air, flushed and moaning in the aftershocks,  _ always _ drew Nicky’s orgasm out of him. And when he did - he saw those stars again.    
  
How long did his hips keep bucking through it?   
  
There was something primal about the way he kept rutting into Joe for another moment, making sure he had every last drop inside of him. And then as the blood started rushing back to his brain, he realized his sweaty face was buried in Joe's neck, and how the man was even able to breathe at all with the way his legs were still over Nicky’s shoulders he would never know. But as he started to carefully unhook them and settle them onto the bed, still connected so intimately, Joe groaned contently, “Nicolo - “   
  
His eyes were still closed, but he reached for Nicky all the same. Pulling him right back down on top of him - desperate to keep Nicky so close, that the only hope he would have to keep Joe breathing was to balance on his elbows over him. He didn’t really have to ask, but he did anyway, “Good?”   
  
Joe would have smirked if he could, but he was already falling asleep. 

* * *

You guyssssss - this chapter was a roller coaster of emotionsssss! Thank you for your patience as I had a busy couple of days.   
BUT there are only two more chapters left! Anyway want to take a gander at their final destination?   
Well either way, the next chapter will feature Nicky's turn to get some loving - and of course another fun flashback ;)  
  



	6. Ocean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just one long stop on the smut train (literally) - turn away now if that makes you squeamish. Like seriously, this is just porn with feelings ~

_Take me to your river_

_I wanna go_

_Lord, please let me know_

_Take me to your river_

_I wanna know_

* * *

_The next morning . . ._

They had slept through the checkout time the next day, though neither could be bothered to care. After munching on slightly stale macaroons for breakfast, they climbed into the shower where Joe kept peppering kisses along Nicky’s shoulder that _almost_ made them miss the _late_ checkout time . . . until Nicky shared that they’d be returning the car rental and boarding a train for the last stretch of their travels.   
  
Joe raised his eyebrows, curious, but still grinning in a way that made Nicky’s stomach flip flop a little, “How much time _do_ we have?”   
  
Nicky didn’t _want_ to encourage him, but after sharing they’d still have about thirty minutes to get dry, dressed and get going - Joe pressed his now wet beard against Nicky’s soapy shoulder and dipped his very hard cock against Nicky’s ass, “I only need ten - “   
  
Nicky knew he didn’t mean sex - at least not the kind where Joe did the work. Joe always wanted to take his time with Nicky. But as he leaned back against Joe’s firm body, he smiled and closed his eyes when long fingers reached around and dipped below his stomach, reaching for his just-as-eager dick.   
  
Sliding his own hand behind him, he turned in Joe’s grasp - and wet, strangled kisses echoed off the tiles as they began to stroke one another, “I would have thought last night would have sated you till later - “   
  
Joe groaned against Nicky’s collarbone, “ _Never_ . I’ll never be sated when it comes to you.” The water was starting to run cold, and his husband began to gently nibble at the goosebumps forming on his skin, even now trying to keep Nicky warm. As if their bodies and the ensuing climax wouldn’t be enough.   
  
Nicky tugged at the earlobe, gently pulling it between his teeth which only made Joe leak between his hands, “Ni-Nicky - I don’t want it to be over too quickly.”   
  
Nicky’s free hand roamed from his shoulder blade, down along his spine - and with his big eyes looking into Joe’s hooded ones, he pressed his index finger down between Joe’s cheeks, making him hiss.

“Five minutes Joe, we still need to get dressed,” he teased, but closed his eyes on a moan, when Joe jerked his wrist and sped up his hand - 

“You know I like to see you go first, habibi.”   
  
There weren’t any more words after that - just groans, and sighs, and stars.   
  


_Train Station_

  
Nicky knew that once Joe saw the boarding pass he’d figure out the final destination - even with one last stop before reaching Malta. And _especially_ after last night, there would be no way Joe could refrain from the memories that would flood him. Greece would always hold a special place in their hearts - the place they had sailed to and spent their first year as lovers. No matter where their lives took them, no matter the wondrous sights they had seen - Greece held the first chapter of their love story. 

And over the last millennium, they made it a point to return here at least every other year. And so from the very beginning, as soon as he knew they needed a vacation - when he feared nothing else could reach through the eclipse - he _knew_ that time spent in Malta would remind Joe. Remind him of the love that was still to be had. And in a way, he hoped all the little stops along the way would remind as well. Would show him how much Nicky loved him then, and how much he loves him still (not that either of them doubted that). But hopefully it helped to remind him what what they had overcome so far - what they would _continue_ to be able to overcome - and that there was still plenty of life left to embrace.   
  
As for the train ride, he had planned that from the beginning as well. _A gentle seduction_ , Nicky had reasoned (which of course would prove unnecessary after last night). He had rented the perfect cottage in Thessaloniki for that evening. The train would carry them from Serbia to there, and they could take in the sights without being distracted from driving. They could relish in the memories that would flood - 900 years as lovers - and enjoy a candlelight dinner before disembarking in the familiar haze of a Greecian summer.

Now as they headed towards the ticket booth, and Joe saw the signs, Nicky looked down relishing in the sound of the emotion in Joe’s voice.  
  
“Nicolo.”   
  
There were too many people around, so Nicky leaned into Joe’s shoulder, but not too obviously, “I told you - I had it all planned.” The way Joe beamed at him, almost emotional - he knew that if he could, he would reign down lavish kisses on him right then and there. Nicky wished they were alone again already, but soon. _Very soon_ . . . “We do have one more stop in Thessaloniki tonight, but tomorrow - Malta for a week.”   
  
Joe’s hand hovered between them, barely reaching out from his own body, lingering in the air between their hips, “Habibi.”   
  
_Soon_ , Nicky thought. He grazed his own fingers against Joe’s, before pulling back when the ticket booth attendant called them forward. 

_Train_

The train wasn’t used for overnight services, so they didn’t have their own cabin. But they still found a small table, perfect for two, in the far corner of the dining section. Though Nicky loved to cook dinners for them, even he was grateful for the scenic route towards Greece - and enjoying a meal with Joe across from him - without being distracted by a kitchen timer. 

They maybe had another hour before arriving in Thessaloniki, and even Nicky was having a hard time looking at Joe and _not_ think of all the ways they had enjoyed Greece over the last few centuries. It didn’t help when after the dinner, sipping on red wine, Joe swirled the glass a little in his hand and smirked, “Do you remember the last train ride from Thessaloniki into Malta?”

God help him, but his dick actually twitched in his pants, and he had never been _more_ grateful to have a tablecloth draped over his lap . . . 

_1892_

He felt utterly ridiculous. Far too flashy for his own tastes.   
  
Nicky had booked these train tickets for Malta weeks ago, and was just so excited to have Joe to himself for a little while that he was willing to do just about anything to make it memorable - but when Joe suggested matching outfits, he should have drawn the line. It was Joe’s little way of saying they were a pair without using words. And it _seemed_ like a nice idea. But the collar was so stiff, the bow tie far too tight, and there seemed to be layer upon layer of fabric over him.   
  
And it was patterned - with stripes. 

Nicky felt like a _caricature_ , only confirmed when Joe said he _had_ to draw Nicky like this as they sat across from each other in their private cabin. It was just two plush benches, and a large window overlooking the terrain. There were at least two more hours of travel ahead of them before they’d reach Malta, and after selecting a few options from the passing dinner cart, Joe hung a ‘do not disturb’ sign on their door, and locked it. 

Nicky cocked an eyebrow, knowing full well that _that_ wasn’t happening . . . Joe’s “no one gets to hear you moan but me” - rule had been in effect from the beginning of their time together. But he also seemed to relish in the option of some privacy for them. Joe sat down across from Nicky, who didn’t even feel he could cross his legs in this trap of a suit, and sort of leaned to the side against the cushion provided, “You really could not have found a more ridiculous outfit for me.”

Joe chuckled as he pulled out the sketchpad Booker had bought him several weeks back. It was meant more as a joke gift - because the Frenchman filled the first five pages with illustrations of the very first soccer game ever held in England twenty years earlier. They had placed bets on the opposite teams - Joe on Scotland, and Booker on England - and when it came to a draw of _exactly_ 0-0 - Andy laughed for the first time that year.   
  
Booker was usually at the bottom of a bottle, especially in the evenings, but sports was something he and Joe bonded over, and it was nice to have a friend in their little group - Andy was the boss, Booker was - well, _Booker_ . . .   
  
Pulling out the rolled up drawing utensils, Joe laid out some charcoal sticks and got comfortable - and Nicky tried to mimic the pose, hoping he could look as relaxed as Joe did. It didn’t work.   
  
“Maybe take off the bow tie?”   
  
With Joe’s encouragement, Nicky probably looked far too eager to tug at the material until it came loose, eliciting a light chuckle from his husband - before the vice fell instantly to the floor, “This collar is ludicrous - “ He popped the first three buttons, and felt like five pounds had been lifted off his chest, and he sank further onto the cushion as he closed his eyes and breathed deep, “ _Much_ better.”   
  
Joe was unusually quiet, and Nicky turned his head to see if he was already lost in his sketch, but instead Joe was looking at him with his hazy eyes - _that_ look, like Nicky was the water in the middle of the desert. Water he’d lap at if only he was willing to crawl across the cabin.   
  
Nicky’s heartbeat picked up at the thought, under Joe’s gaze, under the image of him crawling towards him . . . “Do you want me to do something about that?” Joe’s voice sounded husky, strained, and dry ( _no, thirsty_ ) - and Nicky looked down to see his dick raising the front of his pants to an obscene height.   
  
He went to cover it with his hand, then realized that would probably be counter intuitive, “I uh - I don’t know if I could stifle a moan -.” 

Without another word, Joe placed the pad and sticks down and took the full two strides across to him, before kneeling in front of the bench, “Let me worry about that.”

Nicky wasn’t exactly sure what he had in mind, but he welcomed it all the same - he had a tough resolve, he _could_ stifle a moan if need be right? Well or so he thought, until Joe hovered above him and told him to open his mouth before sticking his middle finger in it. At least with his mouth full, the moan wouldn't be loud, he reasoned. 

Joe replaced his finger with his other hand, curving his thumb in between Nicky’s lips - while that wet finger glided down . . . 

Nicky watched with a flushed face as Joe kept his eyes locked with his - slowly, _too slowly_ , he moved his hand down and under the hem of the high waisted pants. But Joe didn’t wrap his wet fingers around his cock, he went further down, until he could cup his balls with a firm grip that made Nicky _yelp_ . No his mouth was too big, and he couldn’t help the way his lips allowed the sound to escape past Joe’s thumb. Little circles, just a few until Joe pressed in a knuckle deep, and Nicky hissed about to groan loudly.   
  
Joe quickly leaned forward taking Nicky’s mouth in his, and swallowed his moans - it worked well enough. And with his body over his, keeping him grounded, Nicky began to writhe against Joe’s invasion: his palm pressed against his balls, his finger diving deeper into the sensitive bud between his legs. 

When Joe pulled back to allow them both to catch their breaths, he noticed that the movement had forced the pants down just enough to show the leaking head through the open flap of his pants and Joe licked his lips, “How can I resist?”   
  
Nicky’s eyes were half hooded, his face sweaty, his lips swollen and already well worn from Joe’s mouth - the thought of that same mouth working his magic on his cock made it twitch under Joe’s eager stare. 

“Maybe if I put more fingers in your mouth - “ and _God_ , the way he licked his lips, his intention clear, Nicky would have agreed to anything. He nodded, his mouth a little slack, and Joe placed two fingers inside before Nicky closed his eyes and began to suck.   
  
Joe groaned, but far more quietly than Nicky had ever thought to give him credit for. He could feel Joe’s body looming over his, sinking down and _down_ , until his warm mouth wrapped around his cockhead and he jerked his eyes open, a little whine seeping out from around Joe’s fingers. But he didn’t stop, only pulled his fingers out his mouth before clasping his hand _over_ Nicky’s mouth. He was never rough with Nicky, and even now, if he had pressed against it, Joe would have stopped - but Nicky didn’t _want_ him to stop. Joe was only trying to give him some relief, and make sure no one came in - and that meant keeping Nicky quiet.   
  
Besides with the way Joe’s marvelous tongue was working around his length, it wouldn’t take long anyway.

Nicky wrapped one hand around the wrist by his jaw, the other gripping Joe’s curls as he began to suck him off in earnest - deeper and deeper until he felt the back of Joe’s throat pressing against the head. His tongue swirling in circles up and down the length. No, he won’t last long at all.  
  
When Joe curled his finger inside his ass, swiping at the most sensitive spot inside of him, his hips bucked up, of a mind of their own. But Joe’s strong body kept him grounded as the climax hit him _so_ fast, and _so_ hard . . . that his teeth had actually bit down on the flesh between Joe’s thumb and finger. Joe winced for a moment but did not let up - swallowing every last drop as if it really was the water in the desert - and of course, it was already healing when Nicky’s eyes started fluttering open again. Rocking back on his heels, Joe licked the drop of blood away from the back of his hand and gave him a broad grin, fully satisfied it seemed in how _undone_ he had managed to make Nicky.

“That - _that_ was . . . “ he was still catching his breath, and Joe leaned forward, giving his open, gasping mouth a kiss that was mostly made up of Nicky’s teeth.   
  
“Stay _just_ like this hayati.”   
  
“Where else would I go?” Nicky responded weakly, _spent_ \- but when he started hearing the familiar scratching of Joe’s charcoal sticks, his head whipped to the other side of the cabin to see Joe drawing him . . . with Nicky’s half hard dick still on full display, “ _Joe!_ ”   
  
“ . . . But you look so pretty right now, _please_ ?”   
  
Nicky feigned annoyance, but didn’t protest either. 

Returning his head in the other direction, he pressed his cheek against the cushion - lulling to sleep to the sound of Joe’s sketching.

_Thessaloniki_

They had taken a cab up to a large hill, about five minutes outside the city limits. 

A long winding road would lead to the seaside cottage and Joe and Nicky took a moment to stand on the edge and watch the sunset. With the night sky above them, they could tell that there had to be at least half a mile between them and the nearest house. However the best part of the rental was that it included a private strip of ocean, separated by a privacy fence along the property line. Rocks and boulders from the sand dunes led into the ocean for even more seclusion. 

They could not have asked for more.  
  
When Nicky first looked up the rentals in the area, he knew right away that _this_ was the place where Joe would heal. Because this was the place that reminded him of that first year they spent together in a cottage in Malta - secluded, away from prying eyes. Mornings on the beach with Joe’s prayer breads, and Nicky’s rosary. Evenings skinny dipping, and long nights exploring each other . . . This was as close to rewinding back time as he could have found.   
  
And he knew, _knew_ with the way Joe was looking at him, that he felt it, too.

“Nicolo - you thought of everything,” Joe dropped his bag, stepped over it, and scooped Nicky in his arms, raising his feet off the ground. Nicky instantly wrapped his arms around his neck, and closed his eyes before ducking his face into the warm curve of his neck. Joe’s grip was firm, tightly squeezing him around his waist as his hands roamed along his back, “How can I ever thank Allah enough that I get to keep you forever.”  
  
Joe was the one who could cry freely, never having felt embarrassed by his own vulnerability - but even now, nine hundred years later, Nicky pressed his face further into Joe’s skin when he felt that familiar burn in his throat. His eyes blinked as the tears gathered, one tear landing on his husband’s shoulder, while Joe gently placed his feet back on the ground.   
  
One hand rested just above Nicky’s hip, but Joe’s other hand came to his eyes, carefully swiping away at the little stream that had trickled from the corner down to his chin, “Don’t you know by now that I’m the lucky one Yusuf?”   
  
Joe’s lip quivered, but he dove in all the same, slamming himself against Nicky and swallowing his gasp - then promptly picked him up, and carried him up the small front steps and through the front door (that they had only managed to unlock for ten whole minutes before having decided to leave the bags in the entryway while the sun was setting). Now the huge pile proved to be an obstacle course and Joe reluctantly placed Nicky down if only to prevent them from falling. But his hand was fisted into the side of Nicky’s shirt - still trying to find some way to cling to him, “I won’t be able to make it to the bed Nicky.”   
  
Nicky clenched at the words, having just finished making it to the other side of the pile, before Joe practically leapt over them and hurriedly pressed him up against the wall. But Nicky knew him better than that - when Joe got in a mood, when he wanted to do the work - he liked to take his time. Explorative, adoring, _slowly_ . . . he’d want the bed.   
  
Tugging Joe with him, they stumbled into the living room with the small eat in kitchen on the side. Parting just long enough for air, Joe looked ravenous in the moonlight - dark eyes, piercing right through to Nicky’s soul, and _God_ he sounded desperate, but he didn’t even care - a small whine escaped his clutching throat under _that_ stare.

"I can't wait Nicolo - _please_."

Joe closed the already minimal space between them, and Nicky felt the back of the wooden table against his ass. It felt firm enough, and he hopped on, unable to deny Joe what he was asking for.  
  
Nicky pulled Joe close, and they both leaned back onto the table, Joe’s hardness pressing into Nicky’s inner thigh deliciously. With a deep guttural moan, Joe stood up, and grabbed Nicky’s legs pulling him down towards him until he was precariously resting on the edge. Wrapping his legs around Joe’s waist, they made quick work of belts, and buttons and zippers; Joe holding one leg at a time, for balance, before pulling off Nicky’s pants and boxers.   
  
Even now, nine centuries later, there was something about this position that felt so raw and vulnerable. With Joe standing over him, with his wanton desire so full on display, his legs spread wide for the taking. And Joe, God help Joe, whose eyes were dark and dazzling in this light, went down on his knees . . . any ideas of rushing dissipated from his body. Oh yes, he _would_ take his time after all - 

With his upper body disappearing from view, Nicky leaned up on his elbows, eyes glazed, cock throbbing - but Joe only licked his lips, half teasing, half serious when he said, "Only your body could ever make me commit blasphemy."

His dick twitched at the words, and Nicky felt like an animal brought to slaughter - sacrificed for a higher purpose - . . . . to be feasted on. Joe sank between his inner thighs, shouldering them apart when Nicky didn't move them fast enough - and only for one moment, just one - did he pause to look at him as if this was the very first time he was doing it. As if this was all brand new - as if Joe wanted to thank him _again_ for the privilege of allowing this to happen. 

_As if I could ever deny you._

With his fingers gliding over his hips, and down to his ass, Joe cupped his cheeks and lifted him off the table. After the first few times oh so long ago, when Nicky was too embarrassed to look at what Joe was doing down there - this was how Joe helped him overcome his shyness. By raising his hips like this, he could watch Joe dive in, see how much he enjoyed what he was doing down there . . . It was pure Heaven to witness him moaning as he used that tongue against the sensitive flesh.  
  
And this was how he seemingly planned to start what would likely be a long night . . . with Joe’s hand wrapped around his dick, his husband pressing his nose against his balls, and using his tongue to lap at the sensitive spot beneath the sack. But it wasn’t until his tongue swirled down to the pulsing nub, that Nicky immediately flung his head back - 

_Thunk._

He didn’t care the way it slammed against the wood. The dizzying feeling of blood pooling in the spot would abate quick enough. But immediately Joe stopped - dammit, he _stopped_.

"Nicky I'm sorry - "

The muscles in his thighs twitched, his cockhead swollen and red - and he couldn’t even open his eyes, afraid his frustration could be misread in the moment. Instead he answered in a low grunt, "Don-don't stop now."

"But you - "

His fingers curled into the palms of his hands, white knuckling through the moment, willing his body to heal faster so Joe would see it, "I'll heal - _keep going_."

Joe already pulled his hands out from under him, and then brought him up into his arms. With gentle fingers he rubbed the back of Nicky's head while he leaned into his chest. His warmth felt soothing against his flustered disposition, and his breathing returned to normal. He could think a little more clearly now. His head _was_ already healing, and if Joe needed to feel that then that was ok. When he finally did open his eyes, he looked down, and could see just how excited Joe was, too. How much his cock _strained_ for release. He wanted to taste it . . . "Joe, take me to bed."

They made quick work of it, clinging to each other, tumbling onto the bed - a much softer landing to cushion the fall this time. And when Joe practically flopped on top of him, Nicky made a little grunt before smiling up at him - the moment pure and perfect, as the moonlight bathed over them from the nearby window. Joe's eyes were so full of love, and emotion, as his hand caressed his check, "I don't deserve you."

Nicky hummed, closing his eyes when he felt Joe’s cock twitch against his side, "Mmm - yes you do."

His heart rate increased, when Joe’s fingers began to move from his check, down to his neck, over his chest - "I wish I could show you every day how much I love you - "

"You do, you do," Nicky whispered as his body began to tense already.

"I wish my words were enough," Joe’s lips began to follow the same trail as his hand - his cheek, his neck, his chest . . .

"That tongue of yours is what I love the most - when you use it for words, and when you use it on me," his back arched when Joe took his nipple in his mouth.

“Nicolo, ya amar.”  
  
This time when his head flings, it’s against the soft pillow and Joe resumes his earlier position - settling between his legs, raising his pelvis on a pillow so he can take his time. And Nicky opens his eyes - knowing full well Joe will insist on it at some point. Joe spent _years_ helping Nicky overcome every last ounce of shyness in their bedroom, he would hate to think of him reverting now just because of their experiences in the lab.

Just like at the table, Joe feasts on him, tongue and fingers working him open - until he realizes he had forgotten the lube in the hallway. He makes quick work of it though, only gone briefly before returning with his fingers well coated, grinning like the Cheshire cat to find Nicky in the same exact position he had left him in. Joe could go on and on about how much he wanted to worship Nicky, but with his fingers rubbing the sticky mess between him it was Nicky that felt like he needed to make a sacrifice to the sun . . . blasphemy he knew. Because just like Nicky would not deny Joe, Joe could not Nicky.

"Please, Yusuf, _please_."

Joe licked his lips, eager to please and dove in - fingers pressed against his hip bones, possessively holding him in place, as if Nicky was about to pull away a sugary treat. His tongue, oh that glorious tongue - swirling and nipping at his balls, before pushing in two fingers around his pulsating opening. Beads of sweat pooled at Nicky’s hairline, and he had to close his eyes, because everything was starting to go bright - too close to the sun once again, and now almost delirious with heat.  
  
But everytime his dick twitched, either in Joe’s hands, or in his mouth - he switched it up, desperate it seemed to take him all at once, and cutting off Nicky so many times when he was _this_ close - that Nicky gripped the headboard, breathing as hard as he ever had. At this point, a gust of wind could fly across his nipples and he’d probably burst, “Please, _please_.”

“Habibi.”

He didn’t even know what specifically he was asking for at this point - it _all_ felt good. He just needed it, needed Joe, "Please Joe, _now_ \- and don't be gentle. I'm so close."

Blissfully Joe straddled his thighs around his waist, and Nicky opened his weary eyes just enough to watch him begin his descent - and when Nicky felt him enter, there's only a pinch of pain, just a fleeting moment, before the fullness, the heaviness of Joe is sheathed inside of him.

Joe sinks down on top of him, his arms wrapped around Nicky’s shoulder, his hands cupping the back of Nicky’s head, his mouth breathing heavy against his ear - caged in from all sides - protected, _filled_ , and Joe hadn’t even started moving yet . . . “Nicolo, you feel - you feel so Heavenly.”   
  
With just enough room to lift his head a little, he could see in the space between their bellies, and watched as Joe moved - slow at first as he adjusted to the tight fit, but only a light squeeze from Nicky’s hands on his waist encouraged him to go harder. Hard, thick thrusts began in quick succession, and the sight of his cock disappearing and then reappearing - the sticky noises that omitted from the movement - and the moans and sighs against his ear and neck threatened to overcome him at any moment. 

"Come now Nico - so I can take my time."  
  
Joe loved to do this - get Nicky to have an orgasm, so he would be sated, and not rush Joe’s handiwork as he made slow work of loving him inch by tantalizing inch. The way he went on, you’d think Nicky had been carved out of marble, Joe’s own _David_. A perfect specimen of art to draw on with his tongue. And yet what could Nicky do but lie there . . . perfectly content, as Joe would work him over, winding up for the great finish at the end. It had been nine hundred years of these stolen vacations, these stolen moments, that when Joe could finally take his time - he made it count.   
  
Yes, Nicky was all too happy to oblige when Joe picked up speed, Nicky's thighs beginning to shake against Joe’s waist - feeling as if he was sinking into the soft mattress beneath him - maybe he was. Maybe he'd fall right through with the way Joe was ramming into him, "Come.now.please."

Each word is punctuated with a hard thrust, and Nicky finally falls through all together - a downright spiritual experience at this point. Shattering underneath him in one long moan that Joe plows through as white splatters of cum bead out on his stomach, and his whole body tenses one last time before he goes limp and lets go of Joe all together, collapsing with a thud against the bed.

He can feel Joe slowing down, but certainly not stopping - _so I can take my time_ \- replays in his mind distantly. Joe always did like to pull an all nighter. And as his breathing becomes more even, and he feels _so_ drowsy in a hazy love fog, Joe bends over his flushed body, and looks _oh_ so serious as his hips roll into Nicky’s, "I will never stop trying to get those sounds out of you hayati. Never stop seeing the way you look when I give you this pleasure. You’re my gift, and I’m keeping you."

Nicky wants to reach up and touch him, but he's still in a bit of a daze. When Joe begins to trail kisses against his neck, he's at least able to reach his hands up to tangle in his hair. And when he pulls Joe by his curls to look at him, he puts his other hand on Joe's firm backside, "You're my gift, too Yusuf - always."

Joe looks like he could cry happy tears, seeing as they said something awfully similar after the first time they made love - after Nicky had whispered beforehand that he hadn’t done it before. And Joe called it a gift he would never return. _Indebted_ , he said, to Nicky for having given him that gift in the first place.   
  
But right now, right now Nicky was having trouble keeping his eyes open.   
  
He hummed contently, every now and then squeezing his fingers into flesh, muscle, and hair - letting Joe know he hadn’t passed out completely. Slow, steady thrusts as Joe mumbled Middle Eastern poetry against the lines of his body. Who knew how much time had passed, but his husband brimmed with delight when he noticed Nicky’s cock starting to twitch against him again - and the speed inevitably picked up _again_ between them.   
  
Somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, Nicky opened his eyes just in time to watch Joe close his as he shouts out his name, warmth filling him - and one tear escaping into the crinkles around his eyes. And he knew, just like Joe had said about him, that he would never stop trying to draw out that pleasure -   
  
Nicky reached his hand up to swipe at the tear - Joe’s breath ragged, his arms trembling, but still leaning into his touch. Sweat glistened on them both, the bed was a mess, and surely Joe would wake him up later to even the score of orgasms . . . but right in that moment, Nicky put his hand around the back of Joe’s neck and pulled him down on his chest, pressed Joe’s ear against his heart and closed his eyes.   
  
“You have all of me. Forever." 

He was so out of it though, he wasn’t even sure which one of them had said it.

* * *

  
*fans self* told you . . . porn with feelings!!  
  
Thank you for reading this far! We have one more - Malta! And why yes, there will be a flashback to the first time, and a second flashback to the special anniversary about: "oH tHaT tImE iN mAlTa." (so yes, both for the final chapter - and it will be JOE'S POV! So stay tuned, and fingers crossed it should be up in just a few days ;)


	7. Malta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trip down memory lane has reached the end - but things only heat up more in Malta.  
> With two memory flashbacks and seeing things from Joe's POV for the final chapter, travel back in time as they heal for the future <3

**Notes:** _You guys!!_ Here it is, the very last chapter of Cleanse <3 Thank you all so much for the kudos and comments (they give me heart eyes!!)  
I'm sorry it took me almost a week to upload this!! I was a little under the weather, then playing catch up on irl errands :p   
BUT this chapter is almost double the length of the previous one - and in Joe's POV (so swoon!!)  
  
ALSO this one is SUPER EXPLICIT so like turn back nowwww if you do not want to read porn with feelings :D  
  
Lastly, if you haven't seen it already - though it is not necessary to follow along - I do refer to a previous event from my fic, ["They Emerged Once More, and Beheld the Stars"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25744042/chapters/62515747) (for the first time they tell each other they love each other) in a few vague terms within this one.  
  
Lyrics are "Turning Page" from Sleeping At Last <333

* * *

_I've waited a hundred years_

_But I'd wait a million more for you_

_Nothing prepared me for_

_What the privilege of being yours would do_

  
  
  
**Malta** **1909**

  
  
“I still prefer the horses,” Joe chuckled as the Model T chugged up the hill, sending both their bodies jerking precariously from side to side. But Nicky merely shook his head - or maybe the car was doing that, Joe couldn’t even tell anymore.   
  
“Well we had a lot to carry off the train,” was Nicky’s simple reply, as if the practicality behind it should outweigh the way the rough leather seats scraped across his skin in this heat. _Thank Allah for quick healing_ , he mused to himself. 

“Besides - I am eager to finally share the surprise for our anniversary, and this _is_ supposed to get us there quicker.”   
  
Nicky liked expressing his love for Joe behind the scenes, in these acts of kindness - doting on him with gifts, and items that inspired fond memories, or cooking him meals from his homeland, or always making sure he had an art studio in every place they lived - but when he suggested a trip to Malta for their 800th anniversary, Joe thought that _was_ the surprise. 

And _then_ Nicky started the calls and the planning, and wiring money at the local bank and though he kept insisting on the surprise being worth the weight, once Joe saw him packing whole crates up from the safe house, he just had to corner his husband up against a wall one day (after Andy and Booker left to shop for some food to bring back for dinner).   
  
Oh and how he tried using all sorts of words, in all sorts of languages to get Nicky to talk - but his husband could say more with his eyes sometimes than Joe could with his words. He merely looked up at him and Joe knew it was pointless - no pleading, no sweet talking, _nothing_ was going to get Nicky to reveal what he had up his sleeve until the moment _he_ would decide to share it.   
  
Now, with four crates in the backseat, and two strapped down to the trunk (not counting the ones he had shipped ahead of time), Joe worried the car wouldn’t even be able to make it up the last stretch of the hill. The city was a bit behind them, maybe a fifteen minute walk or so, but this lane was turning into gravel and the car chugged a bit at the end, “Nicolo, if this car dies, we are going to roll right back into the city - “ He had said it with a chuckle, but Nicky looked a little sad at the prospect, “Habibi, maybe park it here, we can lug these crates ourselves.”   
  
Nicky sighed, seeing reason and pulled over a little turning the engine off. Joe groaned with sarcasm, “I feel my insides resettling, thank you ya amar.”   
  
“I just wanted to sweep you off your feet - “   
  
“Literally?”   
  
“Joe - “ normally Nicky appreciated his humor, but it seemed like the susprirse hadn’t gone as smoothly as he hoped and now he looked a little sullen as he thumbed the keys in his lap, “I - just wanted it to be special.”   
  
Joe laughed, he couldn’t help it - even when Nicky looked back at him with a slight glare (he knew he wasn’t being serious), “Nicky, I am here with _you_ \- in Malta, It’s already special - anything else you do from here on out is just a bonus.”   
  
Nicky looked behind him, making sure no one was on the road - but they were far enough out that Joe doubted it - and then he hurriedly climbed into his lap. And though there was very little space, Joe couldn’t be bothered to care. He had Nicky in his embrace and he smiled up at him, grinning at the dazzling ocean colored eyes that said, _‘I love you’_ without him saying anything, “Was it something I said?”   
  
Nicky nodded, emotional as tears pooled in his eyes, and Joe leaned in - knowing that look all too well, the one where Nicky felt so moved he needed to press himself against Joe and kiss him and feel him, and love him in that moment. And it wasn’t until a minute later, when Nicky pulled back so they could try to regulate their staggered breaths from a deep kiss that he actually answered Joe’s rhetorical question, “I just wanted to do something as grand for you, as you do for me every time you speak about how much you love me.”   
  
“Nicolo,” Joe went to give him light kisses along that precious neck of his, but Nicky was already pulling back - the parked car making the already hot atmosphere a few degrees hotter, “You distract me too much, Joe - and now we’re going to overheat in this car before I can even show off my hard work.”   
  
Joe relented, “Alright, alright - lead the way, and I guess we can carry one or two of these crates already?” But Nicky shook his head - seemingly knowing better. And Joe pursed his lips to the side, because _of course_ his husband would know how he’d get once Nicky gives him one of his grand gestures. He’d probably drop the crate on the ground, smashing whatever Nicky had thought was so important to bring in the first place, “Hayati, what have you been up to _hm_ \- “   
  
“Follow me so you can find out.”   
  
And Joe grabbed him around the waist before he could rush off, giving him a playful growl against his neck, feigning frustration before he finally loosened his grip and let Nicky step off and out - though quick to catch up behind him.   
  
With no one around, Nicky didn’t pull back when Joe reached for his hand - warm and soft, and interlocking his fingers with his. He almost forgot all about where they were even walking to, until the path started leveling out again, and they rounded the corner to a small stucco two story house. Beautiful trees lined some paved stones, and there were even some flowers in little garden boxes against the front windows. White walls, a blue door, terracotta roof, it was downright charming, “This is cute habibi.”   
  
Normally they booked whatever was available when they landed in a place, but they hadn’t stopped anywhere once they stepped off the train, so Nicky must have called to make arrangements from their current place in Paris. Nicky squeezed his hand, then lifted his other one, spinning the key set on his index finger, “Actually - “   
  
He paused, waiting for Joe to look at him, “It’s ours. I bought it.”   
  
Yes, it was a good thing he wasn’t carrying a crate - he most _definitely_ would have dropped it. Pulling Nicky close, he practically slammed against him. Then with happy tears, and watery laughs he leaned into him peppering him with kisses until Nicky actually snorted with giggles, “Joe - _Joe_ , your beard!”   
  
Joe dipped his face away, but just enough to squeeze Nicky tighter, lifting him up off the ground just a smidge to level him with his own eyes, “You bought us a _house_ .”   
  
Nicky bit his lower lip, looking softer and more gentle than anyone else ever gets to see of him. Only with Joe did he ever feel strong enough to be this vulnerable, to be held like this, to allow himself to be extended the same kind of kindness he gives to the world, to be _loved_ by Joe - and oh how he loved his Nicolo, “It’s really ours?”   
  
Nicky nodded, leaning his forehead against Joe’s, hands resting on either side of his face - shaded by the trees around them, “I wanted to do something special for eight centuries together.”   
  
Joe let him slink down his front, which did not help his already growing heat . . . but he knew Nicky would want to show off the place, and why not? _It is their home._   
  
“I - I know that we always said one year here, or one year there - and then we sort of tested a few years in a place,” Nicky pulled back, picking the house key from the hoop, “And of course we always need to be ready to leave and help, and - well, I wanted one place that was just _ours_ .”   
  
Then he looked like he needed to explain himself, like somehow Joe’s heart wasn’t about to burst already, “I also know that we will out last this place - just like every other place we’ve lived in. But it was just built a few years ago, and I got a good price on it, and I think we could enjoy it for at least a century, maybe a little longer - “   
  
Joe couldn’t take it anymore, like Nicky was trying to explain away the romantic gesture as if maybe it was too much after all and not practical - maybe he feared that Andy would say that, and she probably would. But to Joe, this was Nicky’s way of saying they had something that was theirs, and _theirs_ alone. Reaching for that nervous hand that was still tugging at the key, he raised it to his mouth and brushed a light kiss on Nicky’s knuckles, “Nicolo, it’s perfect.”   
  
Nicky froze, and relaxed his shoulders, before smiling softly, “Should we take the tour then?”   
  
Joe nodded, and they took the two small stone steps to the blue wooden door. His hand resting on the back of Nicky’s lower back, trying not to get carried away and pull him down to the floor by his shirt - _mm_ , he was struggling to stay grounded. But Nicky would want to show the care and effort he took in this gift (and why shouldn’t he show this place off with some pride?). The physical appreciation could wait a few minutes surely, since after all - as Joe kept telling himself on a loop to his hardening dick - they had time, _and privacy_ .   
  
Once inside, the place was dark, and Nicky lit several oil lanterns that bathed the space in a warm amber glow. A few open windows helped, too but the sun was already setting, so they left the lamps to burn anyways. 

Boxes lined one whole wall to the left, and there were some pieces of furniture draped with sheets. But even so, the wood floors were sparkling, the tile colorful and fresh, and the trim a light color that brightened the space. A curved wooden set of steps was on the other side, and as Joe would soon see for himself, led to two rooms and a bathroom with a large clawfoot tub - because Nicky did always enjoy a good soak.   
  
“I had some boxes delivered - I know we might not want to unpack on a vacation, but it’s a few items from over the years.” _Or centuries_ , Joe smiled to himself.   
  
Joe squeezed his arm around Nicky’s waist, unable to understand how his husband could genuinely _still_ be making excuses as if this wasn’t their own little piece of Heaven. As if he hadn’t given him the most _beautiful_ gift, “Nicolo _amore mio_ , my heart is so full right now it could burst - can’t you see how happy I am? I’d unpack three times as many crates if it meant more of you and me through the centuries, and memories, and love - “   
  
Nicky leaned his head back against Joe’s shoulder, and Joe closed his eyes, smelling the salty ocean breeze stuck in the strands, “We do deserve a little permanence after 900 years, don’t we?”   
  
Joe wrapped the other arm around him as well, countering, “We _do_ have permanence, whether this house is here or not - you’re my permanence, always.”   
  
Nicky felt like he was going a little lax against him - like his knees were getting weak, and Joe felt mischievous as his hands started to move down to his hips, “Yusuf - “   
  
“Do we have to unpack before we christian the place?,” Joe breathed against his ear, before pressing his lips against the most sensitive part of his neck, which made Nicky jolt a little in his embrace.   
  
“Bolt the door, and find out.”   
  
Joe moved quickly, but Nicky moved even quicker, leaping towards the staircase and taking two steps at a time, so Joe would have to chase him. It was more playful than Nicky had been in a year, and Joe practically bounced off the threshold as he hurried after him. 

  
**Malta** **  
****2020**

The trail was no longer soft gravel. It was a widened road with a guardrail looking over the blue ocean side. And it wasn’t nearly as empty as it had been a century and some odd years before. More stucco houses lined the climb to the top, the city limits having expanded further and and closing in on their little retreat. After the second world war, Nicky was able to get their little house secured as a historic landmark, including the half acre property line, so though it wasn’t _as_ private as when they first saw it - it was still as much of a retreat as they could have ever hoped for.   
  
The stone gate, six feet high with an electrical heavy iron door, kept people out when they weren’t there - only accessible through an untraceable non profit LLC that Booker had established for them decades ago. On Andy’s insistence of course. Usual grounds keeping was done seasonally, but otherwise, the actual house would remain untouched in between their visits. 

Anytime they did return, sometimes once a year - sometimes two or more bygone - Nicky would hire a cleaning crew through the LLC to spruce the place up before they arrived. The usual boarded up windows would be opened, the heavy iron gate in front of the still blue front door (repainted once a decade) would be unlocked, and the house would be deep cleaned - the heavy, thick sheets stripped off the furniture, and wiped down of any obvious blemishes.   
  
Now, as Nicky plugged in their anniversary year - _1109_ \- into the security pad, Joe sank back into the passenger seat, feeling settled and content. The trees he first saw 111 years earlier were taller, thicker. Their shade stretching over the driveway as they pulled up to the building, the reflections of the leaves dancing across the car window. The view was still spectacular as ever, one corner of their property was a partial cliff that they could watch the sun setting over the ocean. And as Nicky parked the car, Joe spotted the lemon trees they planted all the way back in 1909 before they had left to get back to Andy and Booker for another job. They were full of delicious looking fruit, and Joe would often joke the best lemonade in the world came from that tree - _because it was planted with love_ .   
  
Yes, if there was _one_ place that was just theirs. This was it.   
And Nicky had known it from the moment they were in that horrible lab. _Knew_ that this was the place they would heal and recover . . . How could he even form the words to thank him properly right now?   
  
Nicky gave his hand a squeeze when they were standing in front of it. Because from that _one_ perfect angle, if you didn’t notice the buildings about 200 yards over the roof line, felt like stepping back in time. And _every_ damn time, Joe was moved beyond words for a few minutes, while Nicky led them inside.   
  
His husband was as cheerful as ever, smiling and touching things, saying how good of a job the crew had done - and how he’d make sure to leave them all a big tip. But just like every time they came back, Joe was most moved when he saw the fireplace - and how Nicky made sure to send their swords ahead of time, to be hung parallel over the mantle.   
  
And just like every time before that, it managed to stir up memories of their _first_ time in Malta. 

  
**Malta** **1109**

  
  
They had arrived that morning, securing lodging in a private space as close to the ocean as they could find. A small, but private space, really more a large room than a house. But it had the basics - wooden beds, a fireplace, some chairs and a table. Even some shelves attached to the walls. A ladder propped in the corner led to a skylight (covered with a wooden door on a hinge) that allowed them access to a sloped roof for even better view of the stars. It could not have been more perfect to Yusuf. 

It would be their first home together, after they had confessed how much they loved each other. How much they needed each other in every way.  
  
It was just the night before - when they were still in Crete - rushing away after they had been left for dead in an alley during a random robbery . . . just the night before when Yusuf revived in Nicolo’s crying arms, whispering prayers that he wouldn’t be left alone after all. He had feared that maybe they couldn’t come back if they were killed outside of the Holy Land, but Yusuf’s revival proved otherwise. When they had gathered their things and headed to the port several towns over, they broke for the night, staying under the stars among the rocks and trees.   
  
It was there that Yusuf had sketched Nicolo sleeping - held him when he woke up from his nightmare - and confessed that he often drew him when he wasn't looking because he thought he was beautiful. And after, when Nicolo confessed _his_ feelings, and they kissed, and groaned and writhed in each other’s hands - a peace washed over them both that night. The stars were there only witnesses that night, but even so, Yusuf felt a possessive fire like nothing he had ever experienced before. He knew he could never bear the thought of anyone else hearing Nicolo like that, seeing him like that. Only for him could Nicolo sound like that . . .   
  
They were too exposed last night, and still needed to sail away - who knew who might have realized they had been “killed” and would be surprised to see them walking around the next day. No, they needed to get away first. But now that they were here? Yusuf could take his sweet time. They’d grab a few supplies from the market on the way to the home, barter for a few more things for some coin - but really, with the full wooden crate in his arms, Yusuf knew they could be in the home for a week before needing to reemerge. _Good_ .   
  
There was only one problem - Nicolo seemed a little distant. At first he thought it had to do with people being around, or being in a new place, and of course it wasn’t like he could kiss him in front of everyone. But even his gaze seemed to shift away when Yusuf locked eyes with him. He hadn’t hesitated reaching out to him the night before, he smiled at him all morning till they boarded the ship. But now that they had landed, Nicolo was even more quiet than usual.   
  
When they had climbed the hill, and bolted the doors, Yusuf couldn’t wait. He reached for him, pulled him close and was relieved when Nicolo kissed him back, hands easily tangling in his hair - but when Yusuf’s hands began to roam, he pulled back - insisting on lighting a fire first.   
  
It _sounded_ reasonable, but something in his voice told him there was more to it. Once the fire lit up the space, it became more obvious just how something was going on. Nicolo moved from one corner to the other, quietly, but insistently - fiddling with unloading the crates on the shelves, or placing their swords on the mantle - but when he reached for their fur backs, his hands actually shook a little and Yusuf couldn’t take it anymore. He needed Nicolo to explain what was going on in his mind, “Nicolo.”

Gently, carefully, he placed his hand over Nicolo’s. It stilled the slight tremor and he dropped them back to the floor. But he didn’t look at Yusuf, until he dipped a curved finger under his chin and lifted Nicolo’s gaze to his, “Do you regret last night?”   
  
His eyes widened at the suggestion, and he blissfully answered right away, “What - no, _never_.”

Yusuf sighed with relief, and leaned his forehead to Nicolo’s, closing his eyes, “You are shyer than you were the night before - “ 

He could feel Nicolo’s breath catching in his throat, and opened his eyes just in time to see him look down and into the fire. _His skin looks so beautiful in this light . . ._ “I - I know you will want more tonight - “   
  
Yusuf raised a tentative hand to cup his jaw, that beautiful cut jaw, “Do you not?”   
  
After a moment that feels way too long, Nicolo finally answers, far too quietly and unsure, “I do - I just - “ He loses his voice, and does not finish the sentence. And Yusuf wonders if he can feel his heart cracking a little.

“Nicolo, tell me please -”

Out of all the things he _could_ have answered with, he was utterly unprepared for the information Nicolo shared, “I have never - done this before.” 

“Never?” he didn’t know whether to be surprised, glad, or sad for the man, “Not even with a woman?”  
  
Nicolo shook his head, glancing at Yusuf for far too brief of a moment before looking back into the fire.   
  
Yusuf was going to go with gratitude. He gently led his hand to the back of Nicolo’s neck, fingers tentatively working their way into his hair line until he would feel comfortable enough to look back at him. When those beautiful eyes finally did, Yusuf placed his other hand over Nicolo’s heart, “It is a gift I have not earned, _amore mio_ . But I will treasure it all the same.”   
  
Nicolo’s mouth opened a little, his eyes glossy with emotion, but he didn’t say anything and Yusuf was beginning to feel emotional at what this truly meant between them, “I accept this gift Nicolo, only because it will make me indebted to you for the rest of my days - it will bind me to you, and you to me, as surely as any vow I could ever make. I love you habibi, only you, forever.” 

And when one sole tear escaped his eyes, Yusuf brushed it away with his thumb, leaning in and kissing him as gently as he ever could. Relief instantly flooded him when Nicolo lifted his hands to cup his wrists, and pressed his body closer, “I’m - I’m just a little scared that it will hurt.“

“No,” Yusuf instantly stood straight, full of understanding but equally resolved to rationalize that fear away, “I would _never_ hurt you - and - and there are ways we can make sure it feels good.“   
  
Nicolo’s eyes shifted away for a moment, but he looked back at Yusuf just as quickly, “So it will be you - inside of me?”

Yusuf groaned, instantly hardening at Nicolo’s words - though hopefully he was standing just far enough apart that Nicolo wouldn’t be able to tell, “Do you not want us to?”  
  
Nicolo’s face looked flushed, but at least he didn’t look away anymore, “No I assumed that was how it would be.“   
  
“What? Why?” Yusuf asked curiously.   
  
“Well,” Nicolo shifted his weight a little, from one leg to the other, “you’re taller.”   
  
Yusuf couldn’t help it, he practically barked out a laugh, “What?!”

Nicolo’s face looked about as red as he had ever seen it, “And you have more experience - “  
  
“Nicolo -,” Yusuf pushed himself closer to him, and when Nicolo didn’t resist, wrapped his arms around him tighter, “I want you to do everything to me, that I will do to you. _Everything_ .”   
  
Nicolo’s eyes widened, finding his suggestion downright incredulous, “Really??”   
  
Yusuf dipped his mouth to Nicolo’s cheek, trailing little kisses along his cheekbone till he reached his ear, “Yes.“   
  
Nicolo’s hands moved from his wrists, sliding down his forearms, “I - I would like that, I think.”   
  
Yusuf leaned into the crook of his shoulder, his tunic having shifted enough for him to kiss the exposed skin there, “And tonight, know that it is more than enough just to be in your presence. I love you.”   
  
“I love you too,” his hands roamed over his arms, and settled on his shoulders, “And I do, I _want_ to try some things - I want to touch you. I’ve never really explored another body before - ”

Yusuf immediately raised his head, grinning mischievously, “Well I am happy to contribute to the cause.”

It was Nicolo’s turn to finally laugh a little, and Yusuf was glad he had managed to break down that wall for him. He would do whatever it took to help him feel more comfortable, and it wasn’t like they didn’t have all the time in the world. With a warm smile, Yusuf kissed him gently, before suggesting they take a dip in the ocean . . . naked.  
  
Nicolo only nodded, and allowed Yusuf to lift the tunic over his head.

They had seen each other naked before, even taken dips in rivers together to wash the blood off - but this was for a completely different reason, and when Nicolo raised his hands to cover his stiff cock, Yusuf reached for his own tunic, hoping the sight of his equally hard member would ensure Nicolo that the effect he was having was completely mutual.  
  
Yusuf did not cover his own dick. And watched Nicolo’s eyes as they instantly settled on it. But when he licked his lips, so quick a motion that Yusuf wasn’t even sure he saw it after all, his cock twitched a little. Things got a little hazy after that.   
  
Under the cover of darkness, with no one around for miles, they walked straight ahead even further away from civilization. To where the grass faded into sand dunes, and then down towards the rolling tide. It wasn’t too cold, luke warm even in the pit of summer, and Yusuf held Nicolo’s hand as they waded in. All the way to their stomachs, clinging to each other as the waves splashed over them. 

The way he pressed his hips into his - the way his fingers pressed into his arms when Yusuf trailed kisses on his neck - the way Nicolo moaned against him when he wrapped his fingers around his dick . . . this was likely as close to Heaven as he would ever get. And he wanted to thank Nicolo for the privilege every night, for forever.   
  
“Yusuf - “ his name sounded so pretty on his tongue, especially when it was gasping like this - “Yusuf, _please_ , can we go back home?”   
  
“What do you want to do when we get back there habibi?”   
  
Nicolo shook his head, like he didn’t know how to say it, unsure of what he even really wanted. And Yusuf realized he probably shouldn’t tease him too much, not _yet_ at least, “Yes Nicolo, let us go home.”

With wobbly legs, and flushed cheeks, Nicolo stood near the fire warming up, while Yusuf pushed the two small wooden frames together and laid out the blankets and furs to make it a large enough bed. And once it was all done, Yusuf crawled into the space, and got himself comfortable waiting for whatever Nicolo felt comfortable doing. He would need to know that he could trust Yusuf, that he wouldn’t do anything to cause pain, that he wouldn’t rush him.   
  
But he couldn’t help how his dick stood straight up at the sight of Nicolo slowly walking towards him, the way it twitched when he bent his knee and _crawled_ towards him . . . the way it leaked a little when Nicolo hovered over him, still unsure, but his body warming his, “Will you tell me what to do?”   
  
It wasn’t meant with malice, or sarcasm, Nicolo was genuinely asking for a step by step guide and Yusuf willed himself to slow down, because he was eager (far too eager) to do everything with Nicolo - but here he was, not even sure where to start. Taking one long breath, Yusuf gently pushed his hand against Nicolo’s chest, rolling him onto his back, while he remained on his side. He looked so beautiful in this light, the fire dwindling a little off to the side, the skylight above them basking them in moonlight, “Let me show you what I want you to do me, ya amar.”   
  
Nicolo’s blush spread from his cheeks down to his neck, but he didn’t object.   
  
He kissed his cheek first, peppering kisses along his neck, before allowing his hand to roam down Nicolo’s stomach - and Nicolo, God help Nicolo - he bucked his hips when Yusuf reached his hard cock with his hand. A low moan escaped his lips, and he slammed his mouth shut as if he was trying to make sure he wasn’t being too loud. Yusuf smirked against his salty tasting skin, before slinking down his body, “I do not want anyone else to ever get these sounds of you habibi, but here - in this place - those moans let me know I am doing a good job. Be as loud as you want.”   
  
Wide beautiful eyes watched him, both in surprise and in want, unable to look away as Yusuf’s lips teased his warm skin. And when he flicked his tongue over Nicolo’s stiff nipple, before wrapping his mouth around it, Nicolo bucked into his hand - the one still wrapped around his dick. But otherwise he hadn’t even started yet, hadn’t moved it to get that release for Nicolo. No he felt devious for it, but he wanted to draw this out, to take his time - to wring Nicolo’s orgasm out one slow gesture at a time.   
  
“Yusuf - pl- _please_ \- “   
  
Yusuf released the reddened skin, before aiming for the other one, “Please what?”   
  
Nicolo closed his eyes when his warm mouth sucked down on the second nipple. If he had planned to answer, it was now lost in a deep groan. He had said he wouldn’t tease, but even now, Yusuf cherished those sounds - cherished his words, and he didn’t want this moment to be over too soon.   
  
When he released the nipple with a little pop, Nicolo’s back arched and his eyes looked glassy - like he wanted more, but he didn’t even know what to ask for. Yet his body did, because it bucked his dick in his grasp again, eliciting another moan from his mouth. Seeing how undone he already was, softened Yusuf’s resolve, and he moved further down. Nicolo reached for his shoulder, almost in a panic, “Wh-what are you doing?”   
  
He leaned up on his elbow, eyes as wide as they could go, flushed cheeks - and looking well loved already. Could he be any more beautiful? Yusuf grinned, and settled between Nicolo’s thighs, those thick thighs that gave him plenty to grab as his fingers pressed into the skin - rubbing gentle circles into the flesh as he silently pleaded for Nicolo to spread them.   
  
But Nicolo shook his head, unsure, even if his dick twitched in Yusuf’s grasp at the sight, “But - but how would you be able to breathe?”   
  
Yusuf had to look down, at that perfect cock in his hands, for fear Nicolo would see him smile and think he was laughing at him, “Hayati do not worry, the only thing that could take my breath away is waiting any longer to do this.”   
  
Nicolo seemed more shy than ever, but he didn’t object when Yusuf moved his hand underneath his leg to bend it away for easier access. And he definitely didn’t disagree when Yusuf got himself more comfortable so he could explore this part of his body. However he did shut his eyes and lay back, trying not to watch - and that just would not do, “Eyes on me habibi.”   
  
“No - I -”   
  
“Nicolo, please.”   
  
When he did not relent, Yusuf paused his movements, unwilling to continue until Nicolo took a breath and slowly raised his head by bending an arm behind it. Then, and only then, did Yusuf slide his free hand under Nicolo’s perfect round ass, and lift his pelvis up. Nicolo yelped, unsure what the heck he was doing, but from this angle, he would be able to see what Yusuf was going to do - and that Yusuf enjoyed it as much as he was sure Nicolo was about to.   
  
“Yus-”   
  
Yusuf didn’t let him finish, with precision and care he ducked forward and licked his length in one long move before closing his mouth around the head. Nicolo groaned as he tried to stay upright, his abs flexing, and his breath catching already - Yusuf squeezed his ass, reminding him silently to keep watching because he was certain he had already closed his eyes again.   
  
Nicolo couldn’t say any more words after that.   
  
He must have watched with shocked eyes as Yusuf continued to work his way down his length - and it tasted like the ocean. Down, and down, until he finally reached the bottom, with his nose buried in Nicolo’s coarse hairs. Then he moved his tongue in any free space he could find within his mouth.   
  
Nicolo’s groans turned into moans, and bending at just the right angle Yusuf was able to glance up and see his face buried in the crook of his arm - as if trying to look away, or stifle the sounds. That just would not do. He deserved Nicolo’s full attention for the work he was doing, Yusuf thought merrily.   
  
Moving one hand away from his ass, he gripped the base of his cock, and began to move up and down, slow at first but picking up speed once he could taste the equally salty cum leaking from the cockhead. He was close, and Yusuf pulled off, just for one moment - but it made Nicolo snap his eyes towards him, “ _Please_ do not stop - “   
  
“Oh I am not stopping, I just want you to watch.”   
  
Nicolo swallowed hard, but his mouth went slack, his eyes hooded as Yusuf kept his gaze fixed on him - and moved back into position. Now he did not hold back, jerking the base, and giving splendid licks up and down along the shaft until finally Nicolo’s thighs began to spasm. His pelvis shook, his abs twitched - and then he hurriedly covered his face with his hands - before he came with a shudder.   
  
Yusuf made sure to swallow down every drop, still sucking gently until Nicolo’s hips rolled a little letting him know it was probably too sensitive for Yusuf to continue. However, Nicolo kept his hands over his face: _catching his breath? Trying to hide?_ Yusuf figured it was probably the later . . . He felt like a snake slithering over his body, mischievous and definitely up to no good. Because he was not done yet, whether Nicolo watched him or not.   
  
“Nicolo - “   
  
Nicolo pulled his fingers down, rolling them into his palms, but keeping them at his cheeks - he looked years younger than he was. _Bashful_ , Yusuf processed, something he had never seen Nicolo be before, “Was it good?”   
  
Nicolo nodded, but didn’t reply, and Yusuf kissed the knuckles on his hands, hoping they’d move away from his mouth, “Will you tell me with your words?”   
  
Nicolo shook his head, and Yusuf smiled against the skin. Nicolo had a hard time with his words - something about that Catholic “suffering in silence” mentality - and presumably admitting to how much he liked a sex act, performed by no less than Yusuf, was probably asking for too much in the moment. He’d get there, Yusuf reasoned. He wouldn’t press.   
  
Laying down beside him, Yusuf pulled him close with his arm wrapped around his waist. Pressing his face into Nicolo’s shoulder, he traced gentle lines with his finger along his rib cage, “Thank you for allowing me.”   
  
Finally Nicolo lowered his hands, and rested them on the arm that was over his belly, “I - it was - very nice.” Yusuf grinned, giving his grip around him a little squeeze, “Good.”   
  
Nicolo still seemed a little tense though, even when his hand began to roam over Yusuf’s waist, “What if - what if I am not good at it. What you were doing - “ But even with that concern on his mind, Nicolo was still trailing further down, and Yusuf realized what he was aiming for.   
  
“Nicolo, I will enjoy it, because it is you hayati,” Nicolo stilled, “And it can take time and practice and it is not like we do not have plenty of both to look forward to.”   
  
Nicolo turned on his side, to face Yusuf, looking far more determined than he thought possible in the moment. His hand resumed it’s earlier trajectory, but Yusuf stopped him with a kiss - to which Nicolo promptly stiffened (probably remembering where his mouth had just been). And yet he didn’t deny him when he swiped his tongue against his lips. When they parted, Nicolo looked relaxed, but tired, “Sleep Nicolo - we can do more later.”   
  
“But what about you?”   
  
Yusuf was already closing his eyes, squeezing Nicolo’s waist close to himself, and burying his face against his shoulder again, “I am happy just to hold you in my arms.”   
  
“No - “ came Nicolo’s resolute reply.   
  
“No?” Yusuf lifted his face a little, not sure where he was going with this.   
  
“You - you gave me pleasure, and I want to try to give you pleasure as well.”   
  
Yusuf pulled his arms away, and flopped onto his back - almost playfully, “And what did you have in mind?”   
  
“I - want . . . “   
  
“ _Yes?_ ”   
  
“I want to - “ Nicolo turned towards him, but stopped himself from finishing the sentence.   
  
“Use your words Nicolo,” Yusuf teased.   
  
“I want to sleep with you,” Nicolo confessed, so quietly, that the crackling firewood was louder. 

“And how do you want to do that?”   
  
Nicolo sat up, looking down at him with glazed eyes filled with desire, “I want to be inside of you. If - “ he looked away, suddenly shy again, “that is alright.”   
  
Yusuf groaned, no more tease in his voice left, “Grab the oil from the supply box.”   
  
“For what?” was Nicolo’s far too innocent reply.   
  
“So we can prepare me,” Yusuf explained, and his cock began to stiffen at the idea of what could be happening still.   
  
Nicolo didn’t reply, paused for only a moment and then grabbed the bottle, uncorking it and handing it to Yusuf. He watched him, studying him, as if taking mental notes while Yusuf sat up and poured some on his palm, before rubbing the sticky liquid between his fingers. Then he asked for Nicolo’s hands and did the same, encouraging him to smear it well between the digits. Nicolo looked a little confused, but followed directions, “Now what?”   
  
Yusuf laid back, and lifted his knees till his heels almost reached the back of his thighs. It felt strangely vulnerable - even more than facing Nicolo with a blade ten years before - to be like this, and Yusuf had no room for jokes, or teases now. His own desire was obvious and Nicolo gulped at the sight of him, “I am going to touch myself first Nicolo, and then I want you to try to mimic what I do to me.”   
  
Nicolo nodded, and watched his hands, one wrapping around his dick, the other roaming sticky fingers to the sensitive bud underneath his sack. One finger in first, then a second - and then with staggered breaths, under Nicolo’s lustful gaze, he added a third. All the while stroking himself to Nicolo’s eyes, his lips, his chest heaving at the sight - his cock leaking between his own legs. Even though they weren’t touching each other yet, they were dangerously close to mutual release. Working his fingers in and out, Yusuf finally had to close his eyes and still his hands, worried he’d come already. And he wouldn’t do it, not when Nicolo could be inside him soon.   
  
Pulling his fingers out, he saw Nicolo had moved a little closer, his own hand closing the space between them. With one hand on Yusuf’s thigh, he silently asked with shaking fingers if he was _sure_ that he should mimic what he had done to himself. Yusuf nodded and pulled his wrist closer, “Please Nicolo.”   
  
Nicolo obliged, first one finger, and then a second, and then a third - one knuckle at a time, until the moist flesh pulsated against his invasion and Yusuf’s breath began to stagger, “Yes amore mio - _just_ like that.”   
  
Nicolo seemed encouraged by his moans, and pressed his fingers all the way, curling them a little as if exploring the space - and having managed to hit that _perfect_ spot that made Yusuf curl against him, abs contracting, and a jolt of pleasure licking up his back so fast that he came without being able to stop it - spurting all over himself while Nicolo kept moving his fingers - possibly afraid if he’d stop that Yusuf wouldn’t finish all the way. _Ya Allah_ was his last thought before he slammed back into the bed and tried to catch his breath. Nicolo pulled his fingers out once his dick had stopped leaking, and he closed his eyes, trying to breathe through the fact that for someone who didn’t know what he was doing - _he was a fucking natural._ _  
_   
But he about lost _all_ coherent thought when he felt Nicolo shift on top of him, and felt his tongue on his skin - _on his stomach_ . Yusuf’s head shot up from the furs, and his eyes widened when he saw Nicolo licking up his cum. He opened his mouth to say something, but only a moan came out, and Nicolo fucking _smirked_ , as his tongue dipped against the grooves of his abs before coming dangerously close to his dick, “I do not want one drop to go to waste.” (This coming from the man who wasn’t so sure about kissing Yusuf for fear of tasting himself about fifteen minutes earlier).   
  
And _then_ he licked the head of his dick - just the tip of his tongue - _curling_ against the tiny bit that had clung to his cockhead.   
  
If his heart could stop - the sight of _that_ \- would have made it happen, “Ha-Habibi you - are a quick study.” 

Nicolo swallowed, then climbed over Yusuf, balancing on his arms as he looked down at him - and Yusuf couldn’t help it. To stare up at the wanton desire, made the passion rebuild inside of him already, and Nicolo’s dick pressing against his thigh didn’t help anything either, “We can wait if you want - “ But even Yusuf didn’t really believe what he was suggesting, there was no sincerity behind his words, and Nicolo shook his head a little, “I have waited long enough. I want to.”  
  
Yusuf smiled up at him, reaching for him as he pulled his knees against Nicolo’s waist - opening up for him as best as he could, “Here, take a little more oil - and rub it on your length, spill a little at my opening as well.” He did, stroking a few times as Yusuf sank back into the bed a little more comfortably. Then, watching where he aimed, Nicolo began to press in - Yusuf groaned against the thickness of it . . . _three fingers might not have been enough after all_ , but Nicolo kept going, pressing _and pressing_ \- until his head popped within and they both moaned at the sensation.   
  
Nicolo sank over him, his arms suddenly feeling weaker it seemed and Yusuf wrapped his own around his neck as he lifted his head against Nicolo’s cheek. Nicolo pulled Yusuf even closer, his hands reaching into Yusuf’s hair, cupping him - almost gently. And when he began to sink in further, Nicolo let out a strangled, wet groan, “Yusuf, I - I love you.”   
  
Yusuf could only nod against his thin beard, tears pooling, the sensations almost too much. Yes, this wasn’t his first time, but _this_ felt so different already - this was love, done with love, not just passion - and Nicolo had given him this gift even when he wasn’t sure what he was doing exactly. He made nervous movements, short and far too shallow bucks, hesitating to move all the way in. And Yusuf thought he might just go mad if Nicolo kept inadvertently teasing him like this. He needed more, so much more - he needed _all_ .   
  
“Ni-Nicolo - deeper, go _deeper._ ”   
  
“But - what if I hurt you?” came his weak reply, even when his hips pushed forward more, still obeying Yusuf’s request.   
  
It was too little, too _gentle_ , and he was already so close - so without warning, Yusuf rolled them until Nicolo was on his back, and staring up at him with a shocked expression. He probably should have gone gentler on himself, but his body could take it, and he knew the kind of pleasure that would be had soon enough.   
  
Placing his hands on Nicolo’s chest, he sank himself all the way within two thrusts, until he could feel Nicolo’s tight balls against his ass. Nicolo hissed, surprised, but mouth already going slack and his eyes rolling as Yusuf glided his hips, riding him hard. Something much more primal taking over any sense of reason.   
  
“Yu-Yusuf I - “   
  
Nicolo warned, as if somehow Yusuf would want to climb off of him - but Yusuf only bucked faster, their moans starting to fill and echo into the space around them, until he couldn’t tell which ones were his, or Nicolo’s anymore. And when his beautiful moon began to buck up, to mimic the moves, to slam right back up into him every time he came down, Yusuf yelped as he came against Nicolo’s stomach without even having touched his own cock. Within a moment, Nicolo’s head was pressed back, his neck so beautifully elongated as his body spasmed, and his warmth filled him until it threatened to spill over.   
  
Yusuf fell forward against Nicolo’s hard chest - sweat and cum and oil sticking them together, but neither cared. Breathing hard and ragged against one another, unable to will themselves to move another muscle until they had regained the ability to speak.   
  
Still connected so intimately, Yusuf gulped thick bouts of air against the sticky skin underneath him, before finally sighing and laughing a little, “Nicolo - hayati for someone who did not know what he was doing, I hope you could tell you are a natural.”   
  
Nicolo hummed, contently it seemed, and with shaky arms reached up for Yusuf who slowly, and with a wince, pulled himself off of Nicolo so he could collapse beside him. Side by side, and with staggered breaths, they laid facing each other while Yusuf stroked little circles on Nicolo’s back, “I hope you liked it.”   
  
Nicolo traced Yusuf’s jaw with his index finger, his eyes already closing, but still trying to fight the sleep that threatened to overtake him, “I think I saw Heaven.”   
  
“Habibi - “ came Yusuf’s emotional reply, glad that he was happy, but Nicolo’s hand slumped and he realized he was already falling asleep.   
  


Later that night, after a few hours of sleep, Yusuf woke up when he felt Nicolo’s fingers smearing oil between his legs, seemingly priming him up for round two. Still in a bit of a sleep fog, he stretched and grinned, “You are like my very own incubus - “  
  
“Are you suggesting you created a monster?” came Nicolo’s sweet reply, as he pooled a little bit of oil along his thick shaft.   
  
“I created a monster?” Yusuf teased, before sighing when Nicolo moved to hover over him - his legs naturally wrapping around his waist, “No my love - we created _poetry_ .” 

  
  
**Malta** **2020**

  
Joe took in the home, seeing that (as usual) things were exactly as they had left them, their entire house filled with furniture and mementos from the last three centuries. Like the desk from Vienna that Nicky couldn’t help but make love to Joe that day on the way home from the market in Vienna - because he wanted to grip his curls the whole time, _that_ desk was in their office upstairs. Or the book of Shakespeare’s poems that was buried among shelves and shelves of books throughout their home. Or the half dozen portraits he had done over the centuries that lined the walls in the dining room because Nicky said “they” were the only house guests allowed. Or the shadow box near the staircase, that held ticket stubs from their train rides, and bus tours, and museum visits, and just about every other romantic date they had had.   
  
Even a photograph of that Model T car that brought them here the very first time was framed near their sofa.   
  
But Nicky and Joe understood a long time ago - that each of these precious items were still replaceable. Just like when the first items they shared broke down, and turned into dust a millennia ago - they could replace every item in this home, until the home no longer stood even. And it wouldn’t really matter. It wasn’t about the items anyways. They were just placeholders for memories, when sometimes things felt blurry, and they’d look at them and think back fondly. 

But the memories of their love hadn’t faded, they would never need reminders for that.

After Nicky had finished saying a prayer of gratitude near their home altar beside the fireplace, Joe walked over to him, wrapping his arm around him from behind. Just like he had that very first time they stood in the living room, “I remember it took us three days to unpack those boxes - “ 

Nicky laughed a little, and placed his hands on Joe’s forearm, gently rubbing the skin, “I remember you kept getting hot and bothered every time we unpacked an item that held a special memory - “  
  
Joe’s other hand came up to Nicky’s side, his fingers pressing into his shirt, “They’re all special memories, habibi - and besides, a few got you going as well.”   
  
Nicky leaned back into Joe’s shoulder, unable to counter before turning around in his arms, “You seem - “ 

But he stopped himself from finishing the sentence, and Joe knew what he wanted to say. What he was hesitating to address, “Better?”

Nicky nodded, his hands gliding from his forearms to his chest, warming the space over his heart. But Joe knew what Nicky needed, what he had been failing to do these past several weeks - talk to Nicky. And no place was safer than here, in his embrace, “I know - I know I was lost there for a little bit.”  
  
Nicky didn’t deny or agree, just listened, and Joe took a breath as he tried to explain, “After everything we’ve been through - I thought I was tougher than that. Past anything that could ever break me.”   
  
He hadn’t realized he was already crying a little, until Nicky’s thumb swiped at the wet spot just below his eye, “But seeing you being - being _tortured_ next to me, and not a damn thing I could do to make your pain stop, wondering if that lab was going to be our own iron coffin for the next five hundred years, I - “   
  
Nicky ducked into him, pressing his body against Joe’s - holding him up if it was necessary - but really just to assure him that _he_ was there, _they_ were there - together in their home, in Malta. They weren’t mice anymore. Joe steadied his breathing, and brought a hand to cup Nicky’s head, feeling the spot where it was open three weeks before - how long would he keeping doing that?   
  
With a quiet, pained voice Joe rested his cheek against his soft hair, “Nothing could break me, _except_ the thought of losing you. Or someone causing you pain, and me not being able to stop it.”   
  
“Yusuf - “   
  
But Joe didn’t let him pull away, if only because Nicky had done enough work - it was Joe’s turn to reassure him in the only way he knew he really could, with his words, “I won’t let that fear win - I’ll have my moments sure, but I have you in my hands right now, and you’re my treasure, and my gift. You’re my anchor when I’m floating in the ocean, when I feel like I’m being beaten down by the waves, Nicolo.” Nicky’s hands tightened around his waist at his old name, but Joe wasn’t done yet, “You have always been there, ya amar, that radiant light soft light of yours - will always be able to reach through the eclipse, no matter how dark it might seem, it will beckon me back to where I belong - which is right beside you.”   
  
Nicky’s shoulders shook, emotional from Joe’s declaration already. With gentle touches, he leaned back little, just enough space to lift Nicky’s gaze towards him with a steady hand, “And when you kiss me, I still see the stars, and when we make love, I go to Heaven with you. You’re _everything_ amore mio, please know you will always have everything I can offer. Because you are all, and more.”   
  
Nicky’s lips quivered a little, but still curved into a smile, “You’re an incurable romantic.”   
  
Joe lowered his lips to his, hoping to help still that slight tremor, and Nicky sighed with contentment before meeting him halfway.   
  
Afterwards when their kiss had deepened, and Joe felt Nicky pressing his hips into his, they pulled apart. Nicky had _that_ look that made Joe’s body heat with passion. But all the blood pooled to his dick when Nicky bit his lip and said, “I need you Yusuf.”   
  
“How do you want me?”   
  
“In all ways,” was his quiet reply.   
  
Joe groaned but nodded, happy to oblige.

  
  
 **Malta** **1109**

  
They had spent almost two whole days in bed. Yusuf’s jokes about turning Nicolo into an incubus might have been self fulfilling prophecy because unless he got up to go to the bathroom or take a dip in the ocean, he was seemingly not _allowed_ out of bed. Whether it was because Nicolo was beside him, on top of him, or in him - he was filled in the most delicious ways, and would never object. As for the other way around, Nicolo _did_ learn how to suck Yusuf’s cock in just the perfect way that had him bowing his back off the bed within minutes - but as for the other half, feeling the sensitive opening between Nicolo’s legs . . . That hadn’t happened yet. And Yusuf was not going to push, or even ask about it.   
  
Nicolo was still figuring out what to do with _Yusuf’s_ body - it would probably take a bit longer before he realized what he was comfortable with when it came to his _own_.   
  
. . . So of course, on the third day, when Yusuf was spooning Nicolo from behind, his head resting on Yusuf’s arm - dead to the world after Nicolo had sucked him off _and_ fucked him so deliriously he might have become hoarse from screaming . . . on _that_ third day, he woke up to Nicolo pressing his ass against Yusuf’s cock.   
  
“Nicolo - “ Yusuf groggily asked, but Nicolo only pressed harder, eliciting a groan.   
  
“I want - I want to try Yusuf, like this.”   
  
His arm reached back, curling around Yusuf’s neck, pulling his face against his neck, while Yusuf was still waking up and wondering if he heard right, “Are - are you sure?”   
  
“Just be more gentle than I am with you.”   
  
Yusuf pressed his lips against his warm skin, “Of course amore mio, of course.”   
  
It took much longer the other way around, even with extra oil, but Yusuf was patient, and Nicolo willing - though he seemed too embarrassed to look back at him. Instead his face pressed into Yusuf’s arm, once even nipping at his flesh with his gasping mouth when Yusuf pushed the third finger in, “You should touch yourself habibi, it will help loosen you up.”   
  
But Nicolo, so perfectly flushed down to his chest, sweating and wanton, only shook his head - and Yusuf wondered if he _had_ ever touched himself before. _That might be a new experience, too._   
  
Feeling it might help, he rolled Nicolo into the bedding, into the thick blankets underneath them - hoping some friction against his dick would help alleviate the tension in his body. Nicolo's increased moans as Yusuf continued to work him open were enough confirmation. After a few more minutes, certain he was as ready as he could be, Yusuf moved behind him, blanketing his body with his.   
  
And then he pressed in . . . one inch at a time.   
  
He had to remind Nicolo to breathe so the poor man wouldn’t pass out, but between Yusuf’s encouragement, and his steady grinding against the sheets beneath him, Nicolo seemed to be enjoying himself.   
  
But Yusuf struggled to even notice any nuances - he had never felt anything as perfect as being inside Nicolo, and he was going to finish in an embarrassing record time. His mouth went slack, his thighs slammed against the back of Nicolo’s legs, and when he could hear his sack slapping against Nicolo's - with increasingly wet, moist sounds . . . he started to see stars. So when Nicolo _screamed_ for him to go harder, he obliged, and when Nicolo _yelled_ for more, he rutted into him so fast, and so hard, he worried he might break the bed underneath them.   
  
Neither lasted long after that. 

  
**Malta** **2020**

  
This time, when Joe enters him from behind - and tells Nicky to touch himself because he knows he won’t last - Nicky does.   
  
Whatever shyness _Nicolo_ had faded away a long time ago. He has no problem telling him what to do - _harder, please, more!_ \- the words bleed from his lips now in moans and sighs. Joe knew he scared Nicky for weeks, made him wonder if he was lost and not coming back . . . but he would, he always would. This trip was one way to prove what they had survived, what they had endured, what they had enjoyed - and his only regret was that he had made Nicky worried for a moment that he wouldn't be able to.  
  
So when Nicky’s body stiffened, oh so close to release - he thought of Nicky's words downstairs, _'In all ways'_ \- and Joe lowered his mouth to his ear, “In all ways, you have me, Nicolo. For eternity.”   
  
And then they both saw the stars on their way to Heaven.  
  


_Though we're tethered to the story we must tell_

_When I saw you, well I knew we'd tell it well_

_With a whisper we will tame the vicious seas_

_Like a feather bringing kingdoms to their knees_

* * *

Just one last thank you for reading this far, for sticking with it, _thank you, thank you, thank you_ for all the kudos and comments and encouragement - I love this fandom!!  
I really hope you enjoyed Joe's POV and my theory of "oH tHaT tImE iN mAlTa" (i.e. using every available flat surface in their own house for about three days straight for their 800th anniversary :p). I also hope you enjoyed how Yusuf and Nicolo enjoyed those first few days in Malta ;))))))  
  
Until next time ~ stay safe folks, much love <3


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